Going Back
by Jane Willow
Summary: Things for the Bohos are changing quickly, and now Abeth is back in New York. Joanne and Maureen have broken up for good, Mark's got a new girlfriend and Mimi anad Roger are engaged. Can Mark and Abeth find a way to co-exsist? Complete!
1. Prologue

**AN: **All right, so this is the sequel to my first Rent fic, Abeth. But don't worry, you don't need to have read it to understand this one.

If you haven't read "Abeth", let me catch you up: Abeth was taken to New York by her step-father, who she ended up running away from. She ended up meeting and living with the Bohos and started falling for Mark. But, knowing she was so young, he knew he had to push her back into school and away from their lifestyle. In the end, she found Penny, the daughter of an old boyfriend of her mother's. She ended up moving in with Penny and her father and leaving the Bohos, and Mark, behind.

This chapter is pretty much just what the Bohos have been up to since Abeth left.  
Anyways, please review!

* * *

**Prologue: I Can Do This:**

_I can do this._

Roger inhaled deeply.

"Mimi?"

"Yeah?"

"I, uh… I need to…" He knelt down on the sidewalk.

"What are you-"

"I just can't wait any more, Meems. I just need to know I'm going to be with you _forever_."

It took her a moment to register what he was doing.

She caught her breath. "Roger…"

"Mimi Marquez, will you marry me?" he asked, tears glittering in the corner of his eyes, as he held out a black box with a delicate gold ring.

She was stunned. And for a moment she focused on catching her breath agaib. This wasn't supposed to happened to her. Things like this don't happen to girls _like her_.

"A-are you sure?"

"Sure?" Roger repeated, big, goofy grin spreading over his face. "Yes. I've never been more sure of _anything _in my _life_."

Tears slid down her cheeks, though she didn't notice them. She nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you, Roger."

Both their hands shakey, he slipped the ring onto her finger. "Who knows," he whispered to her, "here goes."

* * *

_I can do this._

Joanne mustered up her all courage.

"Maureen, I'm not going to take this anymore."

"Take _what_?" Maureen spat.

"This selfish, irresponsible-"

"You're pretty quick to throw adjectives out there. I've got a few for you, too, you know!"

"_Childish_!" Joanne cried.

"How about controlling? Patronizing? Uptight? Any of those ringing any bells?"

"You're manipulative and oblivious to anything that doesn't revolve around you. And I've had _enough_."

"Fine," Maureen hissed, "I'll move out. See if I care."

"This isn't like all the other times," Joanne sighed, sitting down. She looked up at Maureen, still standing with her arms folded defiantly across her chest. "This is for real."

"Damn straight it's for real!"

Joanne shook her head. "No. I want you to move you. For good. Forever."

Maureen's arms slowly fell to her sides. "Don't be so overdramatic…" she said, though she began to look worried about the way things were headed. She'd never admit how scared she was.

"I'm not trying to be, but… How long have we been at this, Maureen? Years? This on-again, off-again thing just isn't working."

"Well… what do you want me to do about it?"

"That's just it. You can't do anything."

Maureen sat down beside her. "You're being ridiculous."

Joanne just shook her head. She twisted a big, metal ring off of her finger and placed it in Maureen's hand. "Here," she said, softly.

"No, I… No!" Maureen pushed it back into her hand. "Look, I know we don't always get a long and I know I'm not the easiest person to be with, but… but we wouldn't have _always _gotten back together again is we weren't _supposed _to!"

Joanne bit her lip. "You're making this harder then it has to be."

"_I _am?" Maureen cried. "I'm trying to save us!"

Joanne just shook her head slowly as she stood up, smooth her pants. "Goodbye, Maureen," she said softly as she left the apartment.

"Joanne!" Maureen cried. "_Joanne_!"

But she had left.

* * *

_I can do this._

_I need to do this. If I don't, then I stay in the same fucking spot I've always been in._

The alley was dark and wet and Mark shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he made his way down it. A shadowy figure became clearer as he nearer, shifting back and forth, waiting for him.

"Got any C, man?"

"I'm cool."

"Got any D, man?"

"I'm cool."

"Got any X, any smack, any horse, any joogie-woogie boy, any blow?"

"I'm cool," the figure said again.

"Just gimmie the dope," Mark hissed.

"All right, all right," the man said, smoothly, "let's not get too jumpy, four-eyes. I got it."

The man held out his hand and Mark slipped his a wad of bills, looking nervously over his shoulder. Then the man took Mark's hand and slipped two little bags, tied up tight and filled with brown powder. "Don't spend it all in one place," the man smiled.

Mark just nodded, glad to be headed out of the alley, glad to be away from the man. But the bags weighed heavy in his hands and on his conscious.

_I'll stop soon. I'm almost done._

* * *

_I can do this._

"You look nervous," Penny smiled as she watched her surrogate sister pack her last suitcase.

"Nervous? I'm fucking terrified."

"Why?"

Abeth looked up at Penny. "What if they don't like me?" she asked.

Penny laughed. "This isn't the first day of kindergarten, Abby."

"No, I'm serious. What publisher is going to want _me_?"

"The ones waiting in New York," Penny said, simply.

"New York!" Abeth cried, flinging her arms up in the air. "That's another thing! It's going to be weird going back…"

"It'll be fine," Penny smiled, putting her arm around Abeth's shoulders.

Abeth sighed. "You think I'll see any of them?"

Her sister shrugged. "Maybe. Either way," she said, pulling her into a hug, "this will be great for you."

"Thanks," Abeth smiled, hugging back.

Now Penny held her out at arm's length. "Listen. I won't be mad if you decide not to come back."

"Pen, can we just not-"

"No, hear me out. If you want to stay… we'll understand."

Abeth just nodded, sadly. "You think I can really do this?"

"Oh, please. I _know _you can."

* * *

_I can do this_.

Gray sky. Gray grass. Gray tress. Gray clouds. Gray headstone.

But still he never associated her with gray. Green like her tights, pink like her lips, red like her costume. But gray was becoming his colour now.

_Gray blood, gray thoughts, gray bones, gray heart, _he thought in his gray mind.

"Isn't this supposed to get easier?" he asked her.

Bitterly, he realized that _this _was his actual reality. Disease, sadness, and death. That's what was real now.

Last month, Gordon had died.

"I miss you," he said. "We all do. Mark…" He forced a little smile, a little one for her. "Mark says you help him. He says he hears you. And Mimi… she dreams about you." He swallowed back the tears he wouldn't let fall - not again.

"I don't hear you. I don't dream."

A gray wind blew and he was cold.

_Just slip me on, I'll be your blanket._

"And I just want so badly to see you."

He stared at her neatly engraved name. It didn't fit her at all. All the letters the same seize, colour, and depth - no way to represent her.

"Do you remember me? When I die… are you gunna still know me?"

Finally, his gray tears fell.

"I love you, Angel. I'll be back tomorrow." He sighed. "Goodbye, love."

And he left to dream gray dreams that Halloween night.

_Angel sat comfortably atop the grave stone, legs neatly crossed, as she watched him walk away. Not gray for too long, she knew._

* * *

**AN:** Yeah, so that last one was mega-cheese, but...


	2. Meeting Again

**Meeting Again:**

She walked into the Life Café after just under two years and realized, looking around, it hadn't changed at all. The same old tables in the same spots, the same dulled, tattered posters lined the walls, the same beaten up chairs and probably the same gum stuck underneath them. She was grateful. It was the only familiar thing she'd seen so far in New York.

Her adoptive father, Jim, had paid for a nice hotel room on the Upper East Side. A million miles away from Alphabet City, it seemed. It just wasn't the New York she remembered. That's why she went back, just to see if it really existed, to make sure her imagination hadn't run away with her.

It hadn't, she realized, sitting down at a little booth near a window. Everything was just as she remembered.

Almost everything.

It couldn't be exactly as she remebered. If it was, she wouldn't be sitting alone.

Smiling sadly to herself, she unfolded her menu, remembering long, late mights spent here.

The bell above the door chimed as someone came into the cafe. She didn't bother to look up fromt he menu. Even the specials hadn't changed.

A waitor she didn't recognize took her order. If anything, they probably got new staff, she thought. Then again, it was so long ago, maybe she just didn't remember. It saddened her to think she couldn't remember every detail about the time she had spent there. But it had been almost two years...

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, surprising her.

"Excuse me..."

She turned to face the person and recognized her immideatly.

"Abeth?" the woman asked, hopefully.

Abeth's eyes welled up with sudden tears that she didn't try to stop. "Joanne!"

"Oh my God..."

She jumped up and pulled her friend into a frantic hug, amazed that they'd found each other. But then again, if nothing else about this place had changed, why should they have stopped comming here?

_They_.

Where was everyone else?

Joanne held her out at arms length, looking her over, making sure she was real. "What are you doing here?"

"Abby!"

All at once, another woman scopped her into her arms, nearly suffocating her, and yelling something in her ear.

"Maureen? Maureen! Maureen... Mo, I can't... breathe!"

Maureen let go of her, still beaming, all laughs and smiles. "I don't believe this! Look at you! All... adult!"

Abeth looked down at her long-sleeved plain, white dress, and pink tights. She wouldn't have called it adult, but it was a far cry from the baggy handmidowns they must have remembered her in.

"What are you doing here?" Joanne repeated, still amazed at the chance meeting. Where those tears in her eyes? No, it was just the way the light hit them... Joanne quickly rubbed her eyes, making it impossible to tell.

Abeth wiped her own eyes. "Book..." she spat, trying her best to form words, any words at all. "I wrote a book."

"No way!" Maureen squeeled. "Table! Table! We need a table!"

The three sat down and Joanne pulled out her modern-looking cell phone.

Abeth raised an eyebrow. "Who are you...?"

Joanne gave her hand a squeeze. "Everyone's going to want to see you!"

Abeth smiled. She had been right. Everything was exactly how she remembered.

While Joanne was on the phone, Abeth told Maureen about the book she was trying to get published.

"Well... it's about... us, really. I changed some of the names and stuff, but..."

She could hardly focus on what she was saying. She thought she could hear Mark Cohen's voice on the other end of the phone...

Joanne hung up, and the conversation turned to the reason the two of them came to the Life Cafe in the first place. Maureen and Joanne were breaking up.

"We've been together for so long," Joanne began to explain.

"And not together, and together, and not together..." Maureen interupted.

Joanne ignored her and went on. "We came here to split our stuff up."

Abeth sighed. Was this for real? _For real_, for real, this time?

"Wow... I mean, you two always fought, but...I never thought that.... I mean I always thought that....wow."

Maureen gave her a little smile. "I think we're just too... different." She looked over at Joanne, but Abeth couldn't tell whether Maureen was angry or sad. Probably both, she decided.

The little bell chimed again and Abeth spun around. Jumping up and making a B-line for the door, she closed her arms around Mimi.

"Abby! Abby!" Mimi cried, "I don't believe it!"

They let go of each other, misty eyed, just as Collins swumg his arm around Abeth's shoulders. "Look who went and grew up!" he laughed, his smile as bright as ever.

She laughed, too, and tried to look through the swarm of people that surrounded her. Where was he?

Roger hugged her next. "Good to see you again, kid."

With mock annoyance, Abeth placed her hands on her hips. "I'm not a kid anymore," she smiled. "I'm nineteen, but... I'm old for my age!"

Roger rolled his eyes, and patted her on the back. "Like I haven't heard that one before."

"Ah!" Collins cried, putting his arm back around her, "you still can't drink!"

"In Canada I can," she pointed out. The group started to move towards the table Maureen, Joanne, and Abeth had ben sitting at.

Mimi sat down and crossed her fish-netted legs. Abeth couldn't help but smile. They really hadn't changed at all.

"I don't think you're in Canada anymore, Dorothy," Mimi smiled.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call this 'over the rainbow'.

She knew the voice. How could she forget it?

Abeth threw her arms around Mark's neck, as he stumbled backwards. "Mark!" she cried into his scarf. The same fucking scarf.

He lifted her just off the ground and set her back down. He smiled, sweetly. "Hey, Abeth."

Again, she blinked back tears, knowing her eyes must have been red by now. "Hi, Mark."

Glasses, blond hair, sweater, tall. Nose, teeth, jaw. Eyes. Beautiful eyes. She hadn't just imagined him. She could almost feel the childish flutter in her stomach she used to get when he was around.

_Please_, Abeth, she told herself, _grow up_. _You're not sixteen anymore_.

Mark turned around for a moment, and grabbed a woman's hand. Abeth hadn't noticed her before. Mark brought her forward.

"This," he smiled, "is Amy. My girlfriend."

_Of course_.

Abeth reminded herself to inhale.

Amy held out a hand, pushing a strand of blond hair back into place.

_Ugh, she's pretty._

Abeth wanted to slap the hand away. Instead, she shook it, forcing a smile.

"So, you're the famous Abby from all Mark's movies?"

Suddenly, Abeth could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. What did they say about her? Some kid with a sad, little crush? Some runnaway they pitied?

"...Yup," she answered as best she could.

Mark's camera was suddenly out, and pushed up to her face. "Say cheese!"

Things had changed so much.


	3. Engaged

**Engaged:**

Mimi excitedly pushed her hand under Abeth's nose, waving her fingers, her nails bright red.

"No way. No _way_!"

"I know!" Mimi squealed, tapping her toes on the floor, excitedly.

"Oh my God!"

Abeth grabbed her hand, examining the pretty little diamond on her friend's finger. She looked up at Mimi, still not letting go of her hand. "This better not be from Benny," she said, in all seriousness.

Mimi pulled her hand back. "No!" she laughed, looking lovingly at the tiny ring. "It's from Roger." She sighed, happily. "He said he didn't want to regret not doing it."

Abeth inhaled, somewhat dramatically, raising her eyebrows. "When?" she laughed, grabbing her hand back. "When?"

"Six months ago."

"I missed _so_ _much_!"

Mimi crossed her legs and leaned back on the couch. "Not really. We're still in the same building, aren't we? Me and Roger are downstairs. It's not like anything changed."

"Except the ring around your finger!" Abeth cried, excitedly.

Mimi settling down? Roger committing? Had someone told her this back in Toronto, Abeth would have laughed. And yet...

"We haven't set a date yet," Mimi said. "We were waiting for the right... I don't know, _moment_, I guess. And with you back, I can't think of a better one!" She sighed, almost sadly, almost wistfully. "You don't usually get a second chance with friends like this. I'm glad your back."

Abeth smiled. "Me too." She looked at the ring again. "It's beautiful. It's stunning."

_It's puny, but what did I expect?_

Mimi looked down at it, twisting it around her finger. "Thanks. All I've wanted to do was talk about this stupid thing..." she said with a laugh. "But, I mean with Joanne and Maureen breaking up and all, it seemed kind of insensitive. And besides," she rambled on, "Collins and Angel, you know about Angel, right?"

Abeth nodded. Of course she knew about Angel.

"Well, they had been pretty close themselves, and..." She shrugged.

"I get it. But what about Mark?"

Mimi smiled again. "If I could get that fucking camera out of his face, maybe I would!"

Abeth started biting her nail, a nervous habit she never felt the need to break. "What about Amy?"

Mimi wrinkled her nose. "I don't know Amy that well." She had wondered when the subject of Mark's new girlfriend would come up. It wasn't like any of them had forgotten the dramatic car-side kiss the day Abeth was whisked away. But it had always just been cast off as puppy love.

Examining her nail, Abeth decided it needed to be shorter. "I thought they'd been going our for, like... months."

"Yeah, but she met us after we were engaged."

Both girls couldn't help but smile at that. _Engaged._

She shrugged. "And, I don't know, but it feels like the conversation would be..."

"Forced? Uneasy? Awkward? Difficult? Strange? Uncomfortable? Hard?"

Mimi looked surprised. "Thank you, Miss Thesaurus. Any other adjectives you'd like to throw out there?"

"Did I say forced?"

Mimi laughed. "I'm just glad you're back."

Abeth smiled back. "Can I see the ring again?" Mimi proudly held out her hand.

Both of them gazed at the crappy little ring and talked as if Abeth had never left.


	4. Ricky

**Ricky:**

Abeth didn't like the libraries in New York as much as in Toronto. People clearly weren't there to read.

Roaming through the shelves, she imagined _her _book up there, all worn out and tatter, so she'd know people had read it.

She looked up and down the shelf, the pile of books already heavy in her hands. Where was it?

Her gaze traveled up.

_Golding, Golding..._

And there was _Lord of the Flies_, the book she had been looking for... at the very top.

"Of course."

Setting her pile down, she stepped up on her tip toes and reached up. For the first time in her life, she wished she had Mimi's boots on.

"Shit..." she cursed, as she realized she was no where near tall enough to reach it. She looked back over at the crabby librarian seated behind a desk. She didn't exactly feel like asking her for help.

She decided to go for it one more time. "Come here you little fucker..." she whisper as she reached.

"You always swear at your books?"

"No, just the classics," she muttered, sarcastically, not bothering to turn around to face the man behind her.

The man laughed. "Here, let me help you." The remnants of an accent still clung to his words.

He reached above her and pulled the book down.

"Thank you," she said, as he handed it to her.

"I remember this book. I read it not too long ago."

Abeth was surprised. "Really?"

"Yes," the man explained. He had deep, dark eyes, brown hair cut short, and was very tall. At least, tall enough to reach the top shelf. "I read many books trying to improve my English. I had taken classes back in Mexico, but I still wasn't very good."

Abeth nodded, interested. "That's very admirable."

The man glanced down at the pile of books at her feet. "So why are you reading so much?"

She blushed. "Oh, well... I'm a writer, well," she said quickly, "_aspiring _writer. I just thought I'd catch up on all the classics I missed. Not that I think it'll make me any better," she rambled, "it just makes sense that a good writer would have read a lot of good books. Or at least what the general population considers good books, you know?"

The man nodded, clearly trying to follow along as she raced through her words.

"And," she continued, "I want to be considered a good writer. I'm actually trying to get published right now. I don't want to look like some kind of amateur, even though, I guess, that's exactly what I am." She inhaled. "Sorry..."

_Why am I being such an idiot_? She wondered. _This guy doesn't give two shits about me._

"You say you are trying to get a book published? That's very interesting. And..." he thought for a moment, "admirable." He smiled, happy he had remembered the word Abeth had used.

She smiled, too.

_He's sweet_.

The librarian shushed them.

Abeth stooped down to pick up her books. "Well," she whispered, "thank you very much. No collection is complete without _Lord of the Flies_."

"I'm Ricky, by the way," he said. "Ricardo, but you can call me Ricky."

Abeth suddenly felt light and gigglely.

"I'm Abeth, but you can call me Abby."

"Abeth," he repeated. "What an interesting name."

Abeth blushed, though she wasn't sure why.

_He_ is _very handsome._

"Abby, how would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?"

Abeth's heart stopped and the blood drained from her face, then quickly flooded back.

_He's asking me out_?

She felt a slight hesitation.

_Why are you waiting_? she demanded of herself. _This stupid infatuation is not going to stop me from living my life,_ she decided_._

"Sure, I guess. Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great," he smiled. "You can tell me about the other classic books you've sworn at."

Abeth smiled. "You should have heard me during _Les Miserables_!"

* * *

**AN:** I feel like it was a little hard to understand, so Abeth's "stupid infatuation" is really the way she feels about Mark.

Also, I'm reading Lord of the Flies again (great book :)), so I had to put it in there! :P


	5. The Story

**The Story:**

"Story time!" Maureen cried, as the grouped gathered into the loft.

Everyone had gathered to hear Abeth read her book to them. Looking around at all of them, fiddling around with excitment, she felt nervous.

"Um... it's not very good..."

"Oh, shut up," Roger laughed. "Let's hear it."

Her mind raced through everything she had written. The book was about the few months she had spent in New York with them two years ago. Glancing over at Mark, his arm comfortably around Amy, she wondered if it was such a good idea.

"I started writing it a long time ago..."

"No more excuses," Joane said, waving her hand in the air. "You're amazing. Let's hear it."

Abeth sighed. "Fine."

She took out her neatly printed pages and tried to relax. _It's good_, she told herself. _They'll like it._

"Before I start," she began.

They groaned.

"Just read it!" laughed Collins.

"No, I have to explain something. Now, we all know it's about all of us." She flicked a glance over at Amy. _Almost all of us_. "But I wasn't, you know, sure if I was allowed to use your names or not. I didn't use your last names," she put it.

"Then who cares?" asked Mimi.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew it was fiction. It's _based_ on us, okay?"

They all nodded their okays.

"So, what's my name?" Maureen piped up.

"Idina. I thought it suit you."

Maureen nodded, mulling it over. "I like it."

"What's mine?" asked Roger.

Abeth put the manuscript on her lap. "You're Adam. Collins, you're Jesse."

"Jesse?" he asked. "Why that?"

Abeth shrugged. "I don't know. Doesn't he look like a Jesse?"

Mimi looked over at him, thinking. "Yeah, I could deffinatly see you as a Jesse."

"You were a little bit harder," Abeth told Mimi. "I was torn a few deffernt ways. At first I though 'Tamyra', but I didn't end up liking it. I was really stuck between Daphane and Rosario."

Roger cocked his head to the side. "Their both pretty good. Which one is it?"

"Your first name is Daphane, but everyone calls you Rosie."

Mimi smiled. "Cute!"

"And me?" Joanne chimed in. "Did I make it into the story?"

"Of course you did! I was stuck with you, too, so I gave you a nick name, too. Your first name is Tracie, and your last name is Freedrick. Everyone just calls you Fredi, though."

Maureen nodded. "You're deffinatly a Fredi."

"And me?" Mark piped up.

She smiled. "You were easy. Anthony."

Amy smiled and gave him a little poke on the nose. "What a cute name! I could call you _Tony_!"

"It wasn't really meant to be 'cute'," Abeth laughed, uncomfortably. Amy didn't hear.

Mark smiled at her. That sweet, quiarky, completely honest smile.

"All right," Maureen said, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "Enough of this! Let's hear the story!"

Abeth laughed. "All right, all right." She reopened the manuscript and began, her heart racing. She'd been rejected by so many publishers, she hardly noticed anymore, but if they didn't like it... she didn't know what she'd do.

"I was sitting on the curb the night they found me..." she began.


	6. The Hand Over Your Mouth

**AN: **Even though it's pretty cheesy, I think this is my favourite chapter. It was thrown in at the last second, so I'm sorry if it seems a bit out of place, but I was just goofing around writing and I came up with the idea and loved it. Annnyways... reviews would make my life :)  
And, yeah... they title is mega-cheesy! :P

* * *

**The Hand Over Your Mouth:**

Abeth looked into the bathroom and dabbed her eyes, trying to keep her make up from running down her cheeks. It didn't look like the book was going to happen. All publishers seemed to be loosing money and they weren't sure they wanted to take a risk on a first-time author with a story they'd probably heard a million times.

She heard some muffled voices as Mimi and Roger left to go with Roger's mother and look at flowers for the wedding. It seemed such a grown-up thing to do, that it made Abeth smile, even through her tears. Was this what growing up was? Crying in a locked bathroom and buying flowers? Even if it wasn't, it seemed as close as she'd get. It was really as close as she wanted to get.

She balled the tissue up and looked around of the garbage pail.

"Where on Earth?..." she mutter to herself, looking around the floor.

"Hey Abs," came Mark's voice from the loft, "what are you doing in there?"

"Nothing," she said, as she gave up and threw the tissue into the toilet. Flushing it away, she took one last look at herself, trying to erase all traces that she had been crying.

The toilet gurgled angrily.

"_Fuck_," she muttered. The stupid thing was always acting up.

She decided it was time to get to the bottom of it. Lifting up the back of the toilet, Abeth peered in. She lifted the plug and realized the chain wasn't connected well. Fixing it, she felt proud that she accomplished something.

_Take happiness where you can find it_, she thought to herself_. If I don't get my book published, at least I can go back to Toronto and say I fixed a toilet._

She was about to place the lid back on when something caught her eye. A bag.

Her heart stopped.

It wasn't what she thought it was. It couldn't be.

The bag was taped to the side of the basin. She ripped it off and held it stupidly in her hand. Brown-gold powder tightly wrapped in a little plastic bag.

It wasn't much. But it was more then enough.

Her mind wandered away from the shock of actually seeing the drugs, to who's it might be.

Roger? No. He kicked the habit a long time ago and never looked back.

Mimi? No. After her near-death experience, she came to realize how short life really was, and how much of it she still had left to live.

Collins? He wasn't around enough.

Amy? Why would she keep it here and not at her place? Besides, she wasn't the type to use this stuff, was she?

It took her a few moments to even consider Mark.

But once she did, it seemed painfully obvious.

Her mind raced to find a way out of the terrifying situation she was it, but she knew it was one confrontation she couldn't avoid.

Slowly, she opened to door, the little bag clenched in her fist.

Mark looked up from an old script he was reading.

"Hey," he said, "what were you doing in there for so long?"

She stared blankly back at him. What could she do? What was she _supposed _to do? Her fist clenched around the bag so tightly her knuckles were white.

"What?" Mark asked. "Look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Mark, I..."

His face fell as he realized what was going on. He stood up.

She held out her hand, revealing the bag.

"What... where'd you..."

Abeth felt her face crunch up and the tears spill over for the second time that day. All of the sudden the numbness she had felt melted away and she felt nothing but terror and anger.

"What the _fuck_?" she cried, sniffling loudly. "What the fuck is _this_?"

"How should I know?" he cried back, defensive.

"Don't fucking bullshit me, Mark. You're the only one living here!"

"…Mimi must be hiding it from Roger here."

"Oh," she said, trying not to sob, "when did you think of that story? Before or after you-"

"Stop yelling at me! You don't know what-"

"Mark, do you realize what you're _doing _to yourself?" She gave up all hope of composing herself.

"Yes, _Abby_, unlike _you_," he began, angrily, "I was here when Roger and April did it, I was here when Mimi almost _died._"

"Then... then..." she was at a loss for words.

Mark came towards her, trying to snatch the bag out of her hand. She moved away from him. "Then what the fuck are you doing with it, Mark? If you saw how-"

"I'm not _addicted_ to the shit, I just _need_ it," he said, reaching for it again.

"Oh, real convincing."

"Abeth, you don't understand!"

"Do you realize the shit you could be getting into? That this could lead to more drugs..."

"Glad to see the Canadian school system taught you something," he spat. "Drugs, bad. What would I _do_ without you?" he cried, flinging his hands up into the air.

Abeth so taken back by all of this sudden emotion. Ever since she got back, Mark had seemed very reserved and quiet. Maybe now she knew why. Still, the fact that he was even raising his voice was shocking in itself.

She reached desperately for something to say. "Dirty needles, have you thought about that?"

Mark moved to grab the bag again. Abeth held it tightly in both her hands, bringing it to her stomach, and hunching over. He moved behind her, trying to reach around and grab it.

"Abeth!" he cried, angry.

She could see her tears falling onto the old wooden floor of the loft. It seemed now the thing that upset her most wasn't the drugs in her hands, but the fact that Mark was yelling at her. He never yelled. Especially not at her.

_Aren't I _special? she thought helplessly, as she twisted to keep Mark away from her. _Aren't I the one person you're _not _supposed to get mad at?_

Suddenly all her teenage daydreams seemed stupid and childish.

Half of her just wanted to hand the bag over. Maybe he was right. Besides, who was she to take them from him? But no matter how many times these thoughts ran through her head, she couldn't bring herself to give it up.

"Mark," she cried finally, "cut it _out_. You haven't answered my-"

"You think I'm that_ fucking stupid_?"

"The proof is in my hands, isn't it?"

"Yes, I've thought about getting in too deep, about needles, about getting sick. But it won't happen to me. I saw the kind of-"

"Angel died from AIDS and you-"

"I _know_!" he yelled, so loudly Abeth jumped back. "I know, but I not _using _dirty needles, I'm not _addicted_, I'm not..." he searched for the words. "I'm fine. I just need it."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Abeth, do you have to know everything? You storm back in here and just-"

She sobbed. "Why do you think-"

"-expect me to pour my heart out-"

"Mark, I don't understand-"

"Shut _up_!"

Abeth held her breath, not making a sound, not moving at all. Mark glared at her, his usually cold eyes on fire. "You're not getting them back," she said, quietly.

"I know you think you're helping me-"

"There's no way in hell that I'm going to let you dilute yourself like this."

"I need-"

She continued, calmly, though tears still ran down her cheeks. She hated feeling this scared. "You have too much in you to waste on this shit. This isn't for me, this isn't for you. You have a voice in this world, and these," she said, holding out the drugs, "are the hand over your mouth."

He couldn't help but admire her for trying to be so noble, but he was already furious with her. "Oh, your words are nice, Abeth, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not getting them back."

"I can get more."

"I'll take those, too."

"Then you really _are_ the child I always thought you were."

Abeth forced herself not to start crying again. So he had always thought of her as a kid? Mark walked away from her and sat down on the sofa. He knew how much he'd hurt her. But she deserved it.

"Abeth," he said, "I have a segment due in four days, and I-"

She followed him over to the sofa. "That's why you're using these?"

He put his head in his hands. "99% of what comes out of me when I'm high is shit. But that 1%, that little bit..." he sighed and looked up at her. "It's good. It's really good, Abby. It gets me jobs, it-"

"Who will hire you once you're a junkie?"

"Will you let me finish a thought here?" he snapped. "I just need to finish this piece. I'm submitting it to that new film company. Just... let me finish this piece."

The angel and devil that sat on Abeth's shoulders began to get confused about which side to take. He sounded so sincere, so hurt.

"I can't let you hurt yourself like this," she said quietly, uncertainly.

"Why?" he asked, tears of frusteration collecting in his eyes, now. "Why won't you just-"

"Because I like to think you'd do the same for me. If it were me, Mark, what would you do?"

"This has nothing to-"

"Would you let me go on thinking I needed drugs to be inspired? Would you let me risk my career, my friends, my _life _on this shit?"

He shook his head. "You're just a kid-"

"No, I'm _not_. Not anymore. And you _know _that." She wiped her eyes.

"No," he shrugged, giving up. "I wouldn't. I'd do exactly what you're doing. I'd have to protect you."

Abeth was somehow touched by this. "Well, I have to protect you, too."

"Then what am I supposed to do about this segment? What," he said, exasperatedly, throwing his hands up, "am I supposed to do about _any_ film?"

"You've made films before. Amazing ones, I've seen them."

"Look," he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, "I really don't want to talk about this right now. If you really feel you need to, get rid of the heroin. Just..." his voice trailed off as he shook his head.

Abeth sat down beside him, rolling the little bag around in her hands. It was quiet for a moment. "It's gone, isn't it?"

"What's gone?" he muttered.

She shrugged, though she knew he wasn't looking at her. "Whatever it is that makes you want to film."

Mark was quiet. Clearly he'd had enough for one day. But Abeth continued, anyway.

"It happened to me, you know. Writer's block and all that crap. Really. But... but you don't need drugs to-"

"Abeth, please, just shut up."

"You're in pain right now, right?"

"_Abeth."_

_"_Hear me out. Right now, it sucks. Memorize it."

"What?"

"Memorize it," she insisted. "You can use it. You can take this pain, save it up. Keep it in you until it becomes something beautiful. Then just whip it out."

Mark looked up at her suddenly, disgusted.

"You're _camera_, I mean," she said with a smile. "Right now is a lump of coal. You just have to save it until it becomes a diamond."

Mark rolled his eyes, though he smiled a little. "Think of that little gem of a metaphor just now?"

"Actually," she smiled, "I've been waiting to use it all week."

Mark sighed. His mood seemed completely opposite from what it was a moment ago. It amazed Abeth that he could go from such anger and intensity to such muted sadness in such a short time.

"You're... you're not going to go through withdrawal or anything, are you?" Abeth asked, nervously.

Mark shook his head. "I told you, I wasn't addicted. I only used it a couple times."

Abeth raised an eyebrow. "Don't you, like, get addicted to heroin the first time you use it?"

"I don't know. I didn't use much." He laid down, putting his legs behind Abeth, so she wouldn't have to get up. "What am I doing?" he murmured to himself.

Abeth felt such sympathy for her friend, she hardly remembered the fight they had had. Without thinking about whether she should or not, she stretched out on top of him, laying her head on his chest, letting herself be lulled the up and down motion.

He didn't question it. "Thanks," he said quietly, into her hair.

Letting the drugs roll out of her hand and drop to the floor, she wrapped her arms around him as he put her arm over her back. "You scared me, you know. I'm still scared."

He rubbed her back. "Sorry. I promise I won't scare you again."

And just like that, laying there, she was in love with him all over again.

* * *

**AN:** You'll have to forgive me, but I really don't know anything about heroin, only what I've learned from Wikipedia and watching Lost :P.(RIP Charlie! ....wrong fandom.)


	7. Late

**Late:**

"I'm late," Abeth muttered, putting in an earring as she walked into the loft.

"For what?" Roger asked, sitting on the sofa with his guitar.

Mimi walked in from the bedroom. "Abby? What are you doing here?"

"I'm late," she said again, scanning the room.

"Oh, well _that_ explains it."

"I left my bag here yesterday," she explained.

Mimi reached down under the table and handed it to her. "Here. You going out?"

Abeth nodded. "With Ricky," she smiled.

"The coffee guy again?" Mimi smiled. "I think we gotta meet this one."

"You will," Abeth said, taking her bag. She looked around. "Mark here?"

Roger nodded. "On the fire escape."

As if on cue, Mark stepped in. "Oh, Abby. Hey," he smiled. Looking her up and down, he realized that her red swoop neck shirt and black skirt wasn't exactly what he was used to seeing her in. And she was wearing make up, something else he rarely saw. "You look _great_."

Roger was glad he was the only one in the room who knew Mark well enough to catch the nearly entranced look on his face. _Oh, brother._

She smiled. "Thanks." She waved. "I gotta fly."

"Why?" Mark asked.

"I'm late."

"For?"

Abeth pretended her hadn't heard him and began rummaging through her bag. "I thought I left my pager in here…"

"She's going on a date," Mimi said. She saw no reason to dance around the subject.

"Oh."

"Here it is," Abeth said, pulling out her pager. "Well… I'm late."

"Better get going," Mark said, softly.

"Yeah…"

The day before hovered in each of their minds. Abeth tried to push it away, but couldn't manage to. Mark, however, clung to it.

Roger rolled his eyes. "If you're so late, just _go_."

Abeth snapped out of the thoughts she had been lost in. "You're right. Bye, guys."

Mark stood there as she left. "Bye."

"Hey, Mark," Roger said.

"…yeah?"

"Call you're girlfriend."


	8. Going Out Tonight

**Going Out Tonight:**

Abeth had never really gone to parties. She had never gone dancing, drinking, clubbing, she was never very social. In high school she was quiet. Only a few friends, only a few boys.

That's why being with them was so amazing.

Everything they did was completely new and exciting. When she left New York, removing herself from the only family she knew at the time, she had to sit back and watch her life slowly sink into the monotony of Canadian suburbia.

But now she was back. And they were going out tonight.

It amazed her. They welcomed her back into their close, tight knit family, no questions, no ifs, ands or buts. They made her remember how important friendship really was. How wonderful. She almost regretted being so quiet in school.

_No, I was just saving all my friendship for them. That's poetic... that's pathetic._

They'd all done it before, been in the chaos, the blinking lights, the bass line so loud the walls shook. But she hadn't. She was so excited, her hands nearly shook as she put on a pair of silver hoop earrings.

Abeth took a step back and looked at herself in Mimi's mirror. She cocked her head to one side. Was her shirt too tight?

Mimi walked in, just as she pulled it off.

"What are you _doing_?" Mimi demanded.

Abeth jumped, holding the shirt in front of her. "You scared me to death! Jeez, don't you _knock_?"

"Not to get into my own room," she said, folding her arms. "Now, put that shirt back on!"

Abeth did, turning away from her. "You could have been Roger," she muttered.

Mimi shrugged, taking a few more steps into the room. "But I wasn't."

Shirt back on, Abeth turned around and looked her friend up and down. Short black skirt, fishnets, bright purple top that ended just below her belly button, a little too much body glitter, thick black eyeliner, and way too much hairspray.

"You looked like a whore," she said, frankly.

"Well," Mimi retorted, "you look like a nun."

Abeth sighed and fell back onto the bed. "Roger lets you go out like that?"

Mimi collapsed beside her. "I don't know how you do it up in Canada, but here woman are allowed to wear whatever the want. We can show our ankles and everything."

Abeth laughed, looking over at her friend. "Well, I'm sure all the sleazy men hitting on you will do wonders for his self esteem."

"And _no _men hitting on _you _will do wonders for _your's_."

Abeth sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "We trade bottoms, fair?"

Mimi wrinkled her nose.

"Look," Abeth reasoned, "you're taller than me. It'll be shorter on you."

Mimi sat up. "It'll probably be the first time we get to see your knees," she joked.

Abeth rolled her eyes and stood up. "You can see my _knees_. ...Almost. Now turn around," she ordered.

Standing up, too, Mimi threw her skirt at Abeth. "I feel like we should call Roger and Mark in here," she giggled.

Abeth stood near the back wall, trying to hide behind the bed. "No. Not funny."

Mimi cocked her head to one side, although Abeth was turned away from her. "So... when are you gunna tell us what's going on with you and Mark?"

Abeth froze for a moment, but quickly composed herself. "What do you mean?"

Mimi shrugged, flinging her skirt over to Abeth. "You two just act strange around each other. Like..."

"It's nothing," Abeth interupted. "Just weird being back I guess." Her heart raced. _She knows. She knows about the drugs..._

"Wanna trade panties, too?" Mimi asked, playfully as she pulled on Abeth's skirt.

"Not funny!" But Abeth couldn't help but laugh, happy for the change of subject.

Mimi did up the new skirt. "When you're skirt covers the top of your boots, you know it's too long."

Abeth walked back up to the mirror, wearing her new skirt. "Stop being dramatic. It isn't long at all. I can see your stupid boots. But _I _feel naked. Can I wear some stockings or something?"

Mimi rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "How are we even _friends_?" she laughed. She pointed to the top drawer in her dresser. "Black ones," she said, "you'll look like less of a prude."

"Who cares what I look like?" Abeth asked, rummaging through it.

"You need to loosen up, Abby! Be _dangerous_, have a little _fun_!" Mimi gave a little spin, running her hands through her hair, laughing.

Abeth shook her head. "I don't-"

"You hate rules, right?" Mimi interrupted.

Abeth shrugged. "Stupid ones."

"Break the ones you set for yourself."

Abeth looked up, a pair of stockings in her hand. "You know... that almost makes sense."

"I said black."

"I say less glitter. You stand near a light and you'll blind everyone!"

Mimi's vibrant smile fell and she looked down at her feet. Colour drained from her face and yet Abeth could see the blood rush to her cheeks as Mimi looked up and met her gaze. "Look, I don't... I mean I don't want to look trashy or anything... I ... I'm not _trashy_."

Suddenly the most confidant girl in the world seemed so fragile now that the one insecurity Abeth had even been able to perceive seemed so apparently clear.

"I know," she said quietly. "A little less glitter and eyeliner and you'll be fine."

Once again the worries Mimi must have had were hidden away. "Ok-_ay_," she said in mock annoyance.

Abeth held up a pair of black stockings for Mimi's approval.

"Good," she said, turning to leave. "But I keep the boots."

* * *

Amy was beautiful. With a sparkly blue top, big, silver earrings, and long blond hair, all eyes were on her.

Maureen and Collins fell a step behind everyone as the walked towards the cheap club. "I'll never know why she's with him," Maureen whispered to her friend.

"_You _were with him," he pointed out.

Maureen laughed. "I know. Maybe I don't understand what _he's _doing with _her_. I mean... she's kind of an idiot."

"Harsh."

"True."

Maureen pointed up to where Amy was trying to make conversation with Abeth, while hanging on Mark's arm.

Ahead of them, Amy animatedly rambled on about a high school play she had once starred in.

"…and _I _played the _good_ witch, so I didn't _need _all that green make up…"

Maureen and Collins stifled a laugh as they watched Abeth try and decide whether to be annoyed she was talking so much or laugh at her.

"Well," Collins said, "you'd _have_ to be an idiot not to notice the way Abeth looks at Mark."

"Oh please," Maureen huffed, "you're imagining it. They're friends."

"She kissed him," he pointed out.

"So? That was a long time ago. Besides, I am an expert in women," she smiled, "_I_ would know."

Collins shrugged. "If you say so."

Both looked back up to where Abeth was awkwardly trying to move away from Amy.

Again, the two laughed.

* * *

They were all dancing, having fun, laughing, drinking. Abeth couldn't remember being happier.

Roger, who happened to be sitting closest to Abeth at the bar leaned over. "Nice skirt."

She laughed. "Thanks."

He smiled at her, then went on. "I like the fact that Joanne still hangs out with us, even though she and Maureen aren't together."

Abeth nodded. "I guess I never thought about it. I've only ever know you guys with her."

Roger took a swig of beer. "Dunno how long it'll last, though," he confided, talking over the music.

Abeth raised her eyebrows.

"She's been hinting," he shrugged. "I'm thinking she's moving after the wedding."

Abeth mulled over the new information. Move away from these people? How would Joanne do it?

_I did_, she reminded herself.

"Maybe Amy can convince her to try Canada. Buy a nice igloo or something."

Roger rolled his eyes and smiled. "She's not _that_ dumb..."

"Rog," she said in all seriousness, "she asked me if my _tongue _ever got stuck to my _wall_."

He nearly choked on his beer laughing.

Abeth was glad they were getting along. When she had living with them before, they were always bickering. Now everything seemed right. Almost everything, she thought, watching Amy pressed up against Mark.

_I can't seriously be jealous... _

She pushed thoughts of laying on the couch together out of her mind.

The song changed and Roger and Abeth watched as Joanne's eyes lit up. Suddenly, Mark met her gaze from the dance floor and she rushed over to him, pulling him away from his pretty partner.

Abeth looked at Roger, confused. "What was _that?"_

Roger shrugged. "Apparently, they tango."

* * *

**AN:** Yes, my friends, Amy was Glinda in her high school play :)

Originally, this was two seperate chapters, and the Roger and Abeth bit was on its own, but it didn't really fit anywhere. The first part was supposed to happen before Abeth found Mark's drugs, but I felt like all Abeth did was talk to Mimi. I wanted things to start happening. Anyways, reviews make my life :)


	9. Weird

**Weird:**

"Things are weird, aren't they?"

Mark shook his head, biting into his apple. "No."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Abeth said, automatically.

"What did you say?" Mark said, making a point to gnash his food.

Abeth laughed. "You're disgusting."

Mark shrugged. "I know how to act in the presence of a lady."

Abeth bowed her head with a little wave of her wrist.

"Just lemmie know when you find one."

She shoved his arm and laughed.

"So," she went on, "things are… normal?"

Mark narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Abeth looked around the loft quickly to make sure Roger wasn't there. She leaned into him. "Mark, last week I found a bag of _heroin_ in your bathroom. You told me you were using. _That's_ what I mean."

Mark took another bit of his apple.

She sighed, leaning back on the sofa. "I think Mimi might… suspect something."

Mark sat up straighter. "What?"

Abeth shrugged. "I guess we've been acting weird. So now I'm asking… have we? Are things weird?"

Mark sighed. "Of course they're not."

Abeth smiled. "Good."

The door slid open and Amy walked in. "You guys have _got_ to get a normal door… seriously, that thing is impossible!" She smiled at Mark, then noticed Abeth. "Oh… hi, Abeth. What are you doing here?"

"Mark was reading over my manuscript again," she said, picking up her stack of papers from the table as she stood.

"Oh," Amy managed.

"You know," Mark said good-naturedly to Abeth as she slid on her shoes, "you've gotta change that part about the chronic _lying_."

Abeth shook her head, figuring out his not-so-subtle way of telling her that he didn't like her lying to Amy about why she had come over. "Nah, I think it works," she said, but she didn't smile back at him. _Don't you remember what I'm lying about, dumbass?_

"I don't remember that part," Amy said.

"I just added it. Right after the part about my friend ruining his life."

"Don't remember that, either…"

"Well, good luck with the book," Mark said quickly, going over and nearly pushing her out the door.

Abeth grabbed his apple and took a bite. "Want me to lie or not?" she said, quietly.

Mark sighed. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

She smiled, pushing the apple back to him.

Mark grabbed her shoulder as she turned to leave. "Hey. This better not make it into your next book," he smiled.

"If it does I'll call the chapter "And Things Were Almost Not Weird Anymore"," she smiled.

* * *

**AN:** I know my writing's not good enough to convey this, so I'll just spell it out, lol. Basically things "weren't weird", but then Amy walked in and they got a little weird again... If that makes any sense. I litterally wrote this just know because I thought there was too much of a gap between the last chapter and the next, so I threw this in. I think it's a little wonky, but whatever, lol.

Moral of the story: Amy = MarkAbeth buzzkill. .... Or is it Abeth = MarkAmy buzzkill?

Also, fun fact about Amy's name! "Amy" was originally just the name I was using until I thought of a better one, but I forgot to change it :P


	10. Double Date

**AN: **If you can believe it, this was originally a _lot_ longer, lol. But I actually really like it.

* * *

**Double Date:**

Ricky pulled out Abeth's chair for her as Mark and Amy sat down across from them. As Ricky took his place beside her, Abeth knew she had been right: this was a terrible idea. But Ricky had wanted to meet her friends. How could she say no?

She looked over at Mark, who seemed like he was about to implode... or fall asleep. She couldn't quite tell which. Clearly he hadn't been looking forward to this little outing, either.

"So, Ricky, what do you do?" Amy asked politely, as she unfolded her menu. Her blond hair pulled back tightly and a thin silver chain hanging delicately around her neck, she looked more like she belonged on Rodao Drive, not Avenue B.

Abeth was surprised to see Amy even open the a menu. She'd had it memorized the first month she'd met Mark and his friends. But it had been two years since then... Maybe they didn't go to the Life Café as much anymore.

"I work at a restaurant," Ricky answered, his ever-fading accent still hanging on a few syllables.

"Oh. You cook?"

Ricky smiled a little and shook his head. "Bus boy. I bartend at night."

"How old are you?" Mark asked suddenly, almost accusingly. Abeth shot him an angry look, doing all but telling him to shut his mouth. But Mark didn't notice.

"I'm twenty-two," he answered, unfazed. He turned back to Amy. "What do you do?"

Abeth was already bored with the predictable conversation.

"Well," she began, "Mark's a film maker. Documentaries and... stuff. And I'm a secretary at Channel Three studios." She smiled at lightly touched Mark's arm. "That's how we met."

Mark smiled at her. Abeth knew it was a fake smile. Amy didn't seem to notice. She was still talking to Ricky.

Abeth sighed, quietly examining her fork. Going to the Life had always been fun… Times really _had _changed. Or maybe, she thought, looking at her new boyfriend and her best friend's girlfriend, she'd just come with the wrong people.

But that wasn't fair. Everyone was still getting to know each other, she figured.

She looked at Mark across the table, absently turning his spoon around in the hand, watching Ricky.

Glaring at him, really.

Abeth pulled herself out of her thoughts just in time to hear Amy tell Ricky about her photography class.

"I don't know if it'll work out," Amy admitted. "Last week I turned in this picture. It was black and white," she went on, smiling proudly , as if she'd done something impressive. "It was of a lawn chair - the back of it, and it had a long shadow."

"Sounds nice," Ricky said, politely.

"But the best part was," Amy continued, "that it was on cement."

"Cement?" Abeth asked. She was surprised, not only because the word 'cement' had been her first contribution to the entire conversation, but because Amy seemed so proud of herself.

Mark stared down at the table, bracing himself for the answer he'd heard explained a dozen times.

"Yeah, cement. It's a lawn chair. _Lawn _chair. Get it?"

Abeth stared at her for a moment, trying to decide whether or not Amy was being somehow condescending, or was just plain dumb.

"Okay," Amy said, leaning forward, ready to defend her artistic decisions. "If I asked you what the opposite of a lawn was, what would you say?"

"The opposite of a lawn?" Abeth repeated.

"Yes."

Abeth had to resist the need to laugh at how serious Amy was. "Dirt?" she answered.

Amy hung her head, disapointed in Abeth's answer. "No. _Cement_."

"Well," Abeth muttered, "that's really up to opinion..."

Ricky sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Whatever makes sense to you, right?"

"Yeah... cement," Amy said.

Mark tried not to count how many times he heard 'cement' that night. But he was up to five. Not that he was counting.

"But..." Abeth said, "if the lawn chair was on dirt it would be like the lawn died, or never came at all-"

"No, no, no," Amy said, shaking her head. "You're missing the point. It's _ironic_."

"Oh."

Amy shrugged. "I guess my instructor missed the point, too. I got a C+. Is that fair?"

"No," Ricky said, "it sounds really nice."

"No," Abeth said. She prided herself on the fact that she didn't lie.

Amy turned to Mark. "You saw it, baby. Do you think it was a fair grade?"

Mark readjusted himself in his seat. "It was really nice, sweetheart."

Abeth cringed. She scolded herself for it. Why shouldn't he be affectionate?

"And, personally, _I_ liked it," he went on, "but..."

Amy looked hurt already. 'But' is a very tricky word.

"It's just, I've seen your other stuff and maybe he thought..."

Abeth bit her bottom lip. He was digging himself into a hole that she knew he'd never find his way out of. _I should probably save him..._ she thought, with a little smile.

"Where _is _the waiter?" she interrupted, looking around. "It's not _that _busy. Mark, want to come with me and grab some drinks at the bar? Who knows how long we'll have to wait."

Mark stood up. "Yes! Erm, yeah. Yeah, I'll go."

"I'll go," Ricky offered quickly, standing up beside her.

With both men starting to speak at once, Abeth managed to catch a glimpse of Amy. She couldn't have looked any more pissed off.

"Don't worry about it," Mark said, as if he were doing Ricky a favour. "Abeth's under aged," he pointed out, "but they know me."

Abeth couldn't help but smirk.

"I'll make sure everything's cool," Mark added.

"Oh," Ricky said, sitting back down. He seemed disappointed. "All right." He looked up at Abeth. "Not that I like you drinking," he added.

She patted him on the head, patronizingly, as she walked away from the table. "Yeah, okay."

As she and Mark left, she could hear Amy describing another photograph. It involved a kitten. That was all she needed to hear.

When they were out of earshot, Abeth nudged Mark playfully. "You never told me you were dating an artist."

Mark shoved his hands in his pockets, staring blankly ahead of him. "And you never told me you were dating a dish washer," he said darkly.

"_Bus boy_."

"Whatever."

Abeth watched her feet as they pushed past a few people, giving up on trying to make eye contact with her friend. "So," she said, trying to ease the tension she felt, but didn't understand, "what's this about them 'knowing you' here?"

Mark couldn't help but smile. "Well, they _do_."

"They hate you!" she laughed. An easy laugh. The laugh that always came over her when she was with Mark.

He shrugged. "'Hate' is such a strong word, Abby."

"And so fitting." She smiled, glad he's snapped out of whatever mood he's been in, as they reached the bar. She didn't recognize the bartender, but Mimi said she had been drinking at the Life Café since she was 17. They probably wouldn't ask.

"Shit," Abeth said, "we didn't ask what they wanted."

"I know what Amy drinks. What does Ricky?"

Abeth shrugged, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know... I mean, we've only been dating a few weeks..."

"He's a bartender. Isn't that one of the first thing he'd mention?"

"I'm 19 and he _'doesn't like he drinking'_," she quoted, sarcastically.

"Maybe I'm just a horrible person for letting you," Mark pointed out.

"I'm Canadian. I'm allowed. We drink at 19."

"But this is the United States of America!" he cried, a goofy grin on his face. "Apple pies, Uncle Sam, Texas, red, white and blue, the Grand Canyon, hamburgers, strip clubs, Spiderman..."

"Is that it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, hands placed melodramatically on her hips.

"Orange juice."

She pretended to think of a moment. "Nope. I'm still not convinced."

"Puppies?"

"Almost..."

"If you two are done," the bartender said, impatiently, wiping a glass, "can I get you something?"

"Yeah," Mark said, turning to him. "Three of whatever's on tap and a rum and Coke."

Abeth wrinkled her nose. Rum and Coke? Who drank that?

The bartender handed them their drinks, eyeing Abeth suspiciously. "Here y'go."

Mark handed him some money. "Thanks."

They turned to go back to the table.

"Cowboys?" Mark continued, as if they had never been interrupted.

"Nope."

"Indians?"

"Ha. No."

"Cowboys _and _Indians?"

"I hate you."

Mark laughed. "No you don't."

When they got back, they handed out the drinks and sat down.

"Thanks, baby," said Amy, taking her glass from Mark.

"I didn't know what to get you," Abeth told Ricky, sitting down, "so you get beer."

"Beer is good," he said, taking a sip. He leaned over and kissed her.

Taken back, Abeth instinctively pulled away.

Ricky quickly looked away from her, trying to sort out why she'd done that.

"Sorry," Abeth muttered. To be honest, she didn't know exactly why she'd done it, either. She liked when Ricky kissed her. Usually.

She looked over at Mark as he drained half his drink, setting it down with his jaw clenched. Abeth started to tear her napkin into little pieces. He didn't like Ricky.

"The waiters are taking long enough," Amy complained, filling up the awkward silence Abeth knew she had caused. Amy scanned the café.

Mark shrugged. "Yeah."

Ricky sighed, trying to forget the fact that his girlfriend had just pushed him away. "So, Mark, working on any movies?"

"He doesn't make movies," Abeth cut in, "he makes documentaries…" She gave a little smile, realizing that had come off more rude then she intended.

"Oh…" Ricky said hesitantly, "sorry. Working on any documentaries, then?"

Mark shook his head, staring at Ricky as if he were willing him to explode. "No."

Abeth knew that was a lie, but it was clear Mark was in no mood for conversation, though she wasn't sure why. She knew Amy knew that it was a lie, too, and was surprised she didn't say anything. Then again, maybe Amy just knew Mark better then Abeth had realized.

The thought gnawed at her.

An awkward silence hung over them as Mark tapped the table absently, Ricky stared blankly out the window, and Amy put all her focus into her drink.

This date sucked.

"They're really good."

"What?" asked Ricky, bringing himself out of his thoughts.

"His documentaries," Abeth said, "they're really good."

The waitress walked up and Abeth remembered why she believed in God. There couldn't have been a better time for her to stop talking.

Amy and Mark ordered.

"And you?" asked the woman, chewing her gum somewhat dramatically.

"I'll have the chicken," said Ricky.

"Fries or salad?"

"Fries."

Abeth leaned forward on the table. "And I'll-"

"The lady will have the same."

Mark set down his drink, a little too hard.

"That it?" the waitress asked

"Yeah," Ricky said, looking around the table to make sure everyone had ordered what they wanted.

"'Kay," said the woman as she left, heels clicking on the wooden floor.

He looked over at Abeth beside him. She was sitting low in her chair, arms folded and her eyes on fire.

He knew it'd make her mad if he ordered for her, but he needed to. After she wouldn't let him kiss her, he felt like he needed to prove to Mark and Amy they were just as much a legitimate couple as they were. Especially Mark. Mark didn't seem to like him very much.

He smiled at her. Taking a sip of his drink.

"'_The lady_'?" Abeth spat.

He nodded. "Yeah. You like chicken."

She blinked a few times, stunned. "Thank you, but next time I can speak for myself."

"Sorry," he said, smiling as kindly as he could manage, "I was trying to be nice."

Abeth clenched her jaw. _Like hell you were_.

"Oh dear…" Amy said quietly, taking another sip of her drink.

The sad thing was, Abeth realized, was that she was probably going to order the chicken.

But she would have had the salad.

… No she wouldn't have.

Mark looked at her and shook his head very slightly, making sure only she caught the movement. He clearly wasn't all that happy with the situation, either.

Abeth gave him a small shrug and went back to ripping up her napkin.

This date _sucked_.

"So Ricky," Amy said, breaking the silence, "what's it like bar tending?"

"He hands out booze to drunks with daddy issues in a dark, smoky room until 3 am. It's really fulfilling," Abeth answered, sarcastically, without thinking and not looking up from the table.

Mark couldn't help but laugh.

Ricky looked hurt.

"Sorry," she muttering, looking around, "just… stupid question."

"Just making conversation," Amy said, bitterly.

"Okay then," Abeth said hotly. The tone Amy used and the clear dislike written on her face offended her. "Why don't you tell me more about your pictures? Have you done doves in Central Park yet? How about two old men playing chess?"

"All right. Enough," Mark cut in.

"Enough what? Conversation?" she spat.

Amy was hurt, but more then anything she was pissed off. It wasn't _her _fault that she and her boyfriend were actually getting along…

"Okay, okay. Abby, can I talk to you?" Mark asked, standing up.

Amy grabbed his sleeve. "You don't need to talk to her."

Abeth stood up.

"It's about your birthday party, sweet," he lied stupidly as they walked away.

After she watched them leave, Amy huffed and crossed her arms.

"What?" asked Ricky. As if he didn't know.

"'_What'_?" she laughed. "I don't believe this!" She leaned forward on the table, staring Ricky straight in the eye. "I'm not dating Mark, I'm dating Mark and Abeth." she all but snarled.

Ricky sat back in his seat. "They're good friends."

"Too good," she said, taking his lead and sitting back, too. "I'm glad she's dating you, or else…" She shook her head, thinking. "Or else we would not be seeing as much of her as we do."

Ricky sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah. You're welcome."

* * *

Mark grabbed Abeth's hand and pulled her out of the front doors of the café.

Standing on the sidewalk, she ripped herself away from him and folded her arms.

He stared at her, clearly angry.

"What?" she finally asked. "What the fuck is this all about?"

"What's _wrong _with you?" he demanded.

"_What_?"

"What was all that?" he asked, motioning towards the café with his head. "Why'd you go off on Amy? All that passive aggressive shit? _Mocking _her?"

"I didn't!"

"Oh please, Abby. What's wrong with you?"

She took a step back, hugging herself to fight off the cold. She couldn't deny it. "I just… got mad."

"_Mad_?"

"Yeah," she said hotly. "You know that funny emotion 'not happy' people get?"

"What made you mad? We were having dinner!"

She put her head down, avoiding his eyes. He had not right to yell at her like this.

"Abby! What the hell could have-"

"You don't like him!" she cried, feeling more and more like the seventeen year old she used to be around him.

"What?" Mark seemed genuinely confused.

She took a deep breath, composing herself. "You don't like Ricky," she managed, quietly.

"I never said that!" he cried, defensively.

"Come _on_. You said 'Hi, I'm Mark', but what you meant was 'leave me alone or I'll stab you with my butter knife'."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, Mark!" Could she spell things out any clearer for him? "Jeez… All I wanted was to have dinner, not watch you plot my boyfriend's death."

"And you're not even going to _bring up _how mean you were to Amy?" he asked, changing to subject.

"I told you, I got mad!"

"Abby. _Amy's _not what pissed you off."

"Oh please," she huffed, ignoring two people as they walked past them. "Then enlighten me, Mark. Please, explain to me my subconscious. What made me mad?"

"_You _don't like him."

Abeth was taken back. "What?" she asked, softly.

"Come on," he said, trying to sound kinder. "You once helped me when I couldn't see what I was doing to myself. I'm just trying to do that for you."

"Don't you _dare _try and use that right now."

Mark sighed. "I can see right through you."

"Oh," she spat, "can you?"

"Yeah. And you don't like him."

She took a step towards him, her arms still folded and an angry fire burning behind her eyes. "Then tell me, _Mark_," she spat, "why am I going out with him? If you think I find him so… " she searched for a word- any word, "_intolerable, _then why am I putting up with him?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Maybe I'm a little more opaque then you thought."

"Abby! I can tell!" he insisted. "I just-"

"Mark, grow up."

"You _hate _men like him."

She stood there for a while, in stunned silence, amazed at his audacity.

"It's just," Mark began, trying to fix the situation, "you never-"

"How could you possibly know what kind of men I like?"

"He's… predictable, and…"

"_Intolerable_?"

"Exactly."

"Mark," she said, softly, but intensely, her fingers tightly curled around her arms, "have you ever met any of my boyfriends?"

"No, but…"

"Have I ever told you about a boy I liked?"

"…no."

"One I thought was _cute _or _funny_?"

"No." He wished she would just make her point already.

"Then how could you have any _idea _what kind of men I like?"

The question saddened Mark, in more ways then he would have liked to admit. But mostly it saddened him to think that she didn't believe he knew her well enough to figure something like this out.

"I saw you pull away from him," he said.

"Huh?"

"When… he tried to kiss you." He said it quickly, getting the words out as fast as he could. "You pulled away."

She swallowed, looking down at the pavement. "So?"

"Why are you going out with him?"

"I like him," she said simply, shrugging.

"You're lying."

"No. I'm not." Abeth was getting angry again. What was he doing? Why couldn't he just drop it? She was about to ask him, but he spoke first.

"You never talk about him, he's rarely brought up, you won't let him kiss you, you don't know what he drinks…"

"Do you have a point?" she demanded, "'cause that would be real nice right about now."

"Something's wrong, Abby," Mark sighed. "You're not this _mean_."

She looked at him, not quite so angry anymore. She knew he was right.

"And so what?" she asked. "So what if I don't really like him? It's only been three weeks…"

"But… why?"

"Maybe I don't want to be alone," she said quietly, her dark eyes, dulled by tears that had yet to spill over, glittering in the street lights. "You how that feels, right Mark? To be alone?" She knew she was trying to hurt him, but she didn't stop herself. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry.

His head down, he looked at her through his glasses. "Yeah."

"All right then. So you understand."

She turned away from him and pushed open the door to the café.

Mark grabbed her free arm. "Abby."

She sighed, quietly, two choices clear in her mind. She could take Mark's hand and stay there with him, or she could go back in and sit next to Ricky, keeping things the same as they had always been.

As she thought, she could feel mark's hand around her wrist. Her heart pounded inside her chest.

_This is ridiculous. I'm not seventeen. We're not going to curl up of the sofa again. And things are still weird._

Pulling away from him, she walked inside.

Mark had Amy and she had Ricky and she knew that wasn't going to change. It didn't have to, she realized, everyone was happy where they were.

Relatively.

…This date sucked.

* * *

**AN: **I think this was actually the first chapter I wrote for this fic. I wanted the beginning to seem almost like "The Office", with Amy going on about her picture and Abeth pretty much just going all with her, but rolling her eyes whenever Amy wasn't looking. Of course... I'm no where near as good as the writers for The Office, so it seems nothing like it, lol.

And I know the end fight is pretty cheese, but_ trust me_, I got rid of the worst part. After Abeth went back into the Life Cafe, she and Ricky left and she was hanging on his arm and looking at Mark all "meanly" and.... it was just terrible. lol.


	11. We Both Know That's A Lie

**AN:** I almost didn't put this chapter in...

**

* * *

"We Both Know That's A Lie":**

Abeth sat alone in the loft, leafing through her manuscript for the hundredth time. She wasn't even reading anymore. She didn't need to, she'd memorized every word. But her eyes scanned the pages automatically… just in case.

Everyone was off doing something. Everyone had somewhere to go. Except her, of course. She had no day job, no bills to pay, no one to go and see. So she sat on the sofa and read. She could have stayed in her hotel room, but... it just felt so empty there. She was far less homesick in the loft.

"I'll protect you from robbers," Abeth had promised Roger when he left.

He had smiled. "I'm counting on it... what with all our valuables and stuff."

The door slid open and Abeth jumped a little. No one was due home yet…

In walked Amy, shoes clicking on the floor. Abeth felt the disgust well up in her. _Amy. _She didn't even like the name anymore.

"Oh," Amy said, noticing Abeth. "Is Mark home?"

She shook her head. "No one is. Just me."

Amy set her purse down and walked in. She was clearly wondering what Abeth was doing alone in the loft, considering she didn't live there. "Any idea when he'll be back?"

"Why didn't you call first?" This came out colder then Abeth had intended.

"They didn't pay the phone bill this month."

"Oh… I don't know when he'll be back. He went out filming." She remembered Mark telling her he was leaving and being a little hurt that he hadn't asked her along. She used to always go out filming with him… These little changes from the way things used to be gnawed away at her.

Amy nodded and sat down on the sofa beside her.

Abeth felt herself stiffen. Did she really want to stay and chat?

"Reading over your book again?"'

Abeth nodded, not looking up from the pages she was on.

"Any word from the publishers?"

"Not yet."

Amy searched for something else to say, but found nothing. Usually able to hold up a conversation even at the most awkward times, she found that with Abeth she struggled. _And who wouldn't with her? She'd terrible, stuck up and cold. An Ice Queen._

Abeth turned the page.

"So, um, you guys got any plans for tonight?"

"I don't know," Abeth muttered, hoping not to make much conversation.

Amy knew she was lying. "Yes you _do_," she spat.

Abeth looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

_Oh, fantastic, _Amy thought, _I pissed the Ice Queen off. _

"Never mind," Amy muttered.

Abeth rolled her eyes.

"_What_?" Amy demanded.

"Huh?"

"Oh, don't play _stupid _with me."

"That's really more your field, isn't it?" Abeth mumbled.

"_Excuse _me?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you so _mean _to me?" Amy said, almost too loudly.

Abeth didn't say anything for a while, just stared at Amy and bit her lip. "You're acting like a little kid," she said, finally.

"Well, if I'm the little kid, then you're the _bully_," Amy spat.

Abeth knew she was right. She remembered that terrible night at the Life Café. _You're not this mean_, Mark had said. And he was right. But something about this girl brought out the worst in her. No, not about Amy, about this situation. But Amy was an easy target. Someone to blame.

She sighed, frustrated. "Whatever, Amy."

Stony silence slowly solidified itself in the room until both women felt they could hardly move.

"It's not my fault," Amy finally hissed.

"What's not?"

Amy looked over at Abeth, blond hair hanging neatly over her shoulder. "It's not my fault you left. It's not my fault we met."

"You think _that's _what this is about?" Abeth cried.

"_Isn't _it?"

Abeth sighed and shook her head. "Don't pretend like you know me, okay?"

"Please. I can read you like a book."

"Oh... go take a _picture_."

"We're acting like children," Amy said, taking a step back from the situation. "This is stupid, fighting like we're in high school."

Abeth decided not to point out that less then a year ago she _had _been in high school.

"Maybe we just need to accept we don't get along," Abeth said.

Amy sighed. "I think I've accepted more then my share of things."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not blind, Abby."

_Don't call me Abby._

"I was here when you read that book. You thought you loved him. And now that you're back you thought you two-"

"Enough, okay?"

"Am I _wrong_?"

"Maybe things didn't work out with Mark the way I wanted. But…" her voice trailed off. There was no "but".

Amy stood up and picked up her purse. "I love him, okay? And he loves me. And maybe," she went on, "it's time you accept that. Move on."

Abeth knew she was right. Why would she want to be with someone who didn't want her? But when he looked at her, she knew-

"Tell Mark I was here."

Abeth nodded, not looking over at Amy. Although she knew it was childish, Amy was being so _mean._

Amy turned to leave.

"Amy, wait."

Amy spun to face Abeth again, who was still sitting on the sofa.

"Don't tell Mark."

"Don't tell Mark what?"

Abeth sighed. "Don't tell him we were fighting."

"That wasn't a fight. That was…" Amy shrugged. "That was a discussion."

"I just don't want him to worry about anything."

"Fine," Amy said, a little agitated. _Now the Ice Queen wants to seem all selfless? Please._

Amy turned again.

"And I don't, you know."

Amy sighed. She didn't bother to turn around. "Don't _what?"_

"Love him anymore," Abeth said quietly.

Amy looked back over her shoulder, silver earrings catching the light from the window. "Now... we both know that's a lie."

* * *

**AN: **Amy seems much less stupid, eh? I chalk it up to character development and not poor writing... even though it's poor writing xP


	12. The Letter

**The Letter:**

Mark walked into the loft, one hand wheeling his bike in, his camera in the other. Roger sat on the sofa, his guitar in his lap

"Hey," Mark said, leaning the bike against the wall.

"Hey," Roger said, smiling.

Mark sat down on the chair. "Writing something?"

Roger shook his head. "_Wrote _something. For you."

Mark raised an eyebrow.

Roger smiled. "Wanna hear it?"

"…Sure. Why'd you write me a song?" he laughed.

"You'll see."

_You'll see_. He'd heard that one before.

Roger plucked a string and began to sing, clearly willing himself not to laugh. "_Mark was a once just a young boy_…"

Mark sunk deeper into the chair and chuckled. "Here we go…"

Roger plucked another string. "_And we all thought his camera was just a toy_. _But it totally wasn't-n't-n't-n't."_ He strummed the guitar furiously.

He continued: "_All night and day, all be did was shoot. And, man, that kid had talent to boot!_"

Mark laughed again. "Is this going somewhere?"

Roger shushed him. "Don't hurry my art," he warned. He cleared his throat and began to sing again. "_He filmed all the time, even when he had to baaaarf. He filmed in the freezing cold when he had to wear a scaaarf! He used to work of Alexi Dariiiiiiing, and now he submits stuff to Channel Threeeeeeee_!"

"That doesn't rhyme," Mark pointed out.

"And Picasso isn't anatomically correct. You're point?"

Mark shrugged. "Continue then."

"Here's the chours: "_Oh, film maker! You came and you filmed lots of things and we'll watch them today, oh, Marky!_"

"Roger, this is "Mandy"…Barry Manalow will not be happy about this."

Roger ignored him. "_Oh, film maker! You submitted you stuff to some place... and the chose you today, oh Marky_!"

Mark sat up straighter. "What?"

"The next verse," Roger explained. He strummed the guitar. "_Our young hero gave his films to some guys in ties. If they said it sucked, they'd be telling lies! So they sent you this letter, which handsome Roger received_…"

Mark waited for him to go on. "Well?" he demanded. "The Hume-Jarrah company sent me a letter?"

He'd sent some of his documentaries into a new, independent film company, just to see what might come of it. They had awards to local film makers every year, and he thought just maybe…

Roger shrugged. "That's all I got so far. I'll write the rest after dinner."

"Roger!" Mark cried. "Gimmie the letter!"

Laughing, Roger pulled an envelope out of his pocket. Mark tore it open and quickly scanned it.

"What's it say?"

"…I won."

Roger set his guitar aside. "Won _what_?"

"Best Documentary. I won it."

Roger jumped up. "That's awesome!"

Mark stood, too, never taking his eyes off the piece of paper. _I've gotta call Abeth!_

Roger hugged his friend. "Mark!" he laughed, "gimmie your camera."

Mark seemed to completely ignore his friend, so Roger took it. Flicking it on, he held it up to Mark's still-stunned face. "Zoom in on Mark," Roger said, "totally freaking out because he won that thing."

Finally, Mark looked up. "Rog?"

"Yeah?"

"You still have that tie?"

"I think so."

"We're going to an award ceremony!"

* * *

**AN:** Please don't laugh at Roger's song. I tried, lol.

And, yes Lost fans, that _is_ the Hume and Jarrah you're thinking of ;)


	13. Joanne's News

**Joanne's News:**

Joanne didn't exactly know how to put it. She's suggested they all go out to dinner at the Life Café (where else?) to celebrate Mark's nomination, but that wasn't really why she wanted all her friends together.

She had been offered a job in Chicago. A good one and a nice firm where she could do good work for decent money. One where her mother and father wouldn't be looking over her shoulder. One were Maureen wouldn't have such a constant place in the in the front of her mind. Or, at least, that was what she hoped.

_We've been broken up for too long for me to still feel like this. It isn't normal._

Three tables were pushed together. _Just like old times_, she thought fondly. Mark sat next to Amy and Abeth sat next to her, both seeming to have agreed to be kind to each other. Then Collins and on the other side Roger sat next to Mimi, then Maureen, then Rosie and Paul and a few others. They had expected a more people to show, including Ricky, but they were running late.

_I shouldn't wait for them. I should get this over with._

Joanne looked over at Roger. She'd been hinting at this for a while and she knew that Roger seemed to have caught on. He caught her gaze and gave her a nod. _Do it._

Taking a deep breath in, Joanne stood up. "Excuse me, guys, can I have your attention?"

People continued taking, laughing, ordering wine and beer.

"Guys?"

Roger tilted his head back and shouted. "_Shut up_."

The group went silent.

"Thank you," Joanne smiled. She looked around the tables. "I have an announcement to make. I, uh…"

Maureen's big, brown eyes looked up at her.

_I can't do this._

"Um, I… I know we're all here for Mark. And we're really proud of him. And I'm not trying to take away from his moment, but I figured that because we're all here that I might as well say this now."

"You're pregnant," Maureen blurted out with a smile. A few laughs. Mimi slapped Maureen's shoulder, playfully.

"Uh, no. Actually, a few weeks ago I was offered a position the Heredia & Co. firm in Chicago."

People seemed to hold their breath as the realized what was coming.

"I took it."

A low murmur hovered over them as everyone took this in.

"You're leaving?" Mark asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah… in a few weeks. After your ceremony."

"_Why_?" Maureen asked, looking almost horrified. This hurt Joanne in ways she hadn't expected. Maureen wasn't supposed to care thzt she was leaving.

"It's a really great opportunity," Joanne explained. "And… I'll be back."

Collins nodded. "This calls for more beer."

"You're really just gunna _leave_?" Maureen continued, ignoring everyone else.

"…yeah."

Oh, this was harder then she'd expected. Tears bit at the back of her eyes and the same phrase she could see clearly written on Maureen's face kept running through her mind: _how could you?_

"What's the job?" Abeth asked.

"It's in Chicago. Heredia & Co. is known for doing a lot of work pro bono. They take on a lot of ethical cases and things along those lines. I think it'll be a real challenge and I'm excited to see what I can-"

"So you _won't _be back."

Joanne sighed. "Maureen, please."

"I'm sorry, but _I'm _sitting here thinking-"

_Of course, _Joanne thought bitterly, _it all comes back down to_ you_, doesn't it?_ But she knew better then to say anything. If nothing else, her relationship with Maureen had taught her to pick her battles.

Collins interrupted Maureen. "She'll be back. Her family's still here, right? So, like, for Christmas and stuff."

Joanne nodded.

"Anyhow," she said, starting to feel uncomfortable, "that's all I wanted to stay. I'll be here for the wedding. I leave after Mark's ceremony."

A few of them nodded as she took her seat again.

"Well, I'm proud of you, Jo," Roger said. "You've got talent and I'm glad you're, you know, using it. Not wasting it."

Joanne nodded and smiled. "Thanks," she said, though she wasn't sure if she meant it.

Maureen twirled one of the rings on her hand. She sighed. "I think... I think should go."

"Why?" Mark asked.

"I need to get up early tomorrow, and I'm already half drunk," she smiled, weakly.

Amy piped up. "But you only had-"

Someone kicked her under the table.

"Ouch!_ Sonnofabitch_. Why'd you do that, Mark?"

"Sorry," Mimi said, leaning to talk to her. "That was my bad." But her face said something completely different. _Shut up. We all know she's lying, are you really stupid enough to point it out?_

Amy sunk down in her chair.

"Sorry," Joanne said quickly as Maureen stood up. "I hope I didn't-"

"No. No, you didn't do anything. I just… I have to get up early."

"So, we're okay?"

Maureen nodded. "We're okay." She slipped her bag over her shoulder and left.

Joanne looked down at her bowl and dipped her spoon into her miso soup. But she wasn't very hungry.

Beside her, Abeth turned slightly to face her better. "Jo?" she asked quietly. "Are you sure your fine? I mean-"

"Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Abeth laughed a little. "I left once, you know. I know what it's like."

Joanne looked away from her food, her eyes finally meeting Abeth's. She shook her head. "You don't know what it's like," she said quietly. "Not when you… not when you _think _you…" She shook her head. "Never mind."

Abeth placed her hand over Joanne's. "Jo, come on. You _know_ I know what it's like to leave someone you're in love with."


	14. It Was An Accident

**It Was An Accident:**

Abeth hadn't told anyone yet. She didn't know how. She sorted through words, sentences, phrases in her mind, but nothing seemed right. Nothing really said how happy - and scared - she really was.

She grew annoyed with herself. She was a _writer_, she should be able to think of _something_! Her hands shook. She was too excited. She could hardly do anything but laugh so hard she cried, or cry so hard she laughed. _Finally_, it was happening.

She sat in the hard, awkward chair in her hotel room and fidgeted. She'd called Mark fifteen minutes ago. Where was he?

She remembered he didn't have a car, it was Amy who drove him everywhere. He must be on his bike.

It seemed almost selfish to call him when she knew Amy wouldn't be there, but she tried to convince herself it wasn't. Amy didn't like her and Mark together and would hate to know that Mark was going off to her hotel room. Alone. But Mark was her best friend and she wanted him to know first.

_I have every right to_, she reasoned. She'd known Mark longer then Amy, she'd spent more time with him. And it wasn't like they were doing anything wrong.

What Amy didn't know wouldn't hurt her - or anyone else. She'd leave it up to Mark to decide what she should know.

She just _really _wanted to tell him.

He was taking such a long time, she felt like she was going mad. She said it out loud a few times, but it didn't help.

She needed a way to distract herself.

She counted to tiles on the floor for the little kitchenette. 168.

She counted the flowers in the awful painting above the bed. 424.

She was about to start counting the squares on the bedspread when she remembered how much she hated math.

She was loosing it. She had to tell him. He had to get there! Someone else had to know.

"My book is getting published," she said out loud, to no one.

No wild applause, no cheers, no laughter, but she smiled none the less. It was just good to say it.

_I should call my father, _she thought, _he is the one paying for all this. _She paused. _Father_. She liked the sound of that.

She stood up, walked over to the phone, and lifted the receiver.

The door swung open.

She jumped.

"Mark! You scared me!"

"Sorry," he smiled, walking in. "It was open. So… what do you need to tell me?" He looked nervous, almost worried. Abeth smiled at him and he relaxed. "Tell me. Why'd you drag me down here?"

Hanging the phone back up, she grabbed his hands and led him to the chair. She sat across from him on the bed.

Sitting up straight, she took a deep, overdramatic breath.

"Tell me!" he laughed. She closed her eyes, inhaling again, pretending to prepare herself. "Abeth…"

She smiled brightly, leaned forward and took his hands again. She was having way too much fun with this. "I…" she said slowly, "Abeth Claire Pace-Rode - _that's me_…"

"Abby!" he cried, "tell me what's so important!"

She smiled. "I'm getting there. I," she continued, "wrote a book… as you know."

She watched his face light up as it slowly dawned on him what was happening.

"And I've tried very hard to get my little book out there. Today I was informed by Difflin Co. that my book-"

"No way…"

"-entitled _Rent_-"

"No way!"

"Is going to be _published_!" she squealed.

"Abby!" she cried, beaming. He stood up and pulled her up with him. She jumped into his arms and they both laughed.

"It took long enough!" he laughed. Lifting her just a little off the floor, he spun her around, then set her back down.

Neither of them let go of each other.

What happened next was an accident. They were just too close to each other. But it happened and she did nothing to stop it. She knew he didn't, either. And for a few fleeting moments they could each pretend they didn't have to.

It had been the first time she kissed him in almost two years.

It wasn't very long, but it felt like an eternity.

Then he pushed her away, gently.

"I'm sorry."

She stepped back, forcing herself not to put her hand to her lips, and looked down at the floor. "No… I, uh…"

"Sorry," he muttered again, readjusting his glasses. Just like he did when she'd found the heroin, she remembered. "I should go."

He looked back down at her and he watched her remember Ricky, remember her commitments.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Sorry."

_Don't you cry... You can handle this._

He sighed as she turned away from him and grabbed her hand. "Hey," he said, "congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

She smiled, sadly, holding onto his hand.

"You're book is really good. It's gunna do great."

She watched him remember what the book was about, watched him remember Amy. He dropped her hand and left.

"Bye," she muttered, quietly.

She fell back down onto the bed and debated as to whether or not she should sit there and cry or call her father - or Ricky. She had completely forgotten about him.

But it didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

It had happened and he hadn't stayed.

* * *

**AN: **Just a note on the names in this chapter: "Difflin Co." is the words "Dunder" and "Mifflin" smushed together, a little homage to The Office :)

And Abeth's full name is "Abeth Claire Pace-Rode. If you read the story "Abeth", when she first meets the Bohos, you might remember that her last name was "Messer". I never reall explained how her name changed, so I will now. Her step-father's last name was Messer, but after he left her mother, she went back to Rode. (This would make her name _Abby Rode_... close enough to Abby Road! lol). When she moved in with Jim, her "adoptive" father, she took his name, Pace, too. If you put that with her middle name it's Claire Pace, as in Claire Littleton and Charlie Pace :)


	15. Dark Blue

**AN: **This chapter was actually inspiered by the Jack's Mannequin song "Dark Blue". When the song came on, I thought it kinda fit Mark and Abeth, though I know it didn't come out anywhere near the early '90s, lol. I was worried this would turn into a "song fic", so I didn't put any of the song in the actually chapter, but at the end of the chapter I've put the lyrics to the song and who's "thinking" them. Check it out if you want, if not, whatevs :)

* * *

**Dark Blue:**

Abeth walked up to Mark outside the church, window blowing the loose bits of her hair across her face.

Mark tucked his hands inside the pockets of his dress pants. "Let me guess... you're here to ask if things are weird?"

Abeth smiled. "Yeah."

Mark shook his head. "No. We can... just forget about. I'm sorry-"

Abeth shook her head. "No. Don't be."

Mark put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Let's go in."

Abeth walked with him, her arm around his waist and smiled to herself.

* * *

The wedding was beautiful. It was sweet to see even Collins tear up as the I-dos were said. Roger was a bit teary and shaky, not nervous, just so… _ready_, so excited. Mark had said it was because he's finally let himself let go.

"So he's_ forgetting regret_?" Abeth had asked with a smile.

"Yeah," Mark smiled back, "something like that."

The wedding had been in a small church, at Mimi's mother's request. How can you have a wedding that wasn't in a church? she had asked.

Money, as always, was tight, so the reception was in the basement of the church. It was an unfinished room, with bare floors and gray walls, but it had been decorated nicely and was big enough to fit everyone. There was no "head table", but Ms. Marquez had seemed all right with that.

Mimi and Roger sat with their friends at a small, round table with a white tablecloth eating chicken and drinking cheap champagne. And they were walking on air, finally finding a high they'd never be able to come down from. Maureen and Joanne were even being civil.

And music swirled through Abeth's head. She could almost hear it - the choir, the meldoy, the lyrics. Like they were all singing together.

Roger and Mimi sat together, then Collins, then Maureen to his left. Abeth to Maureen's left, with Mark squished between her and Amy. Then Joanne, who faced across Maureen and Abeth, then Mimi next to Roger.

Amy and Mark got up to dance, and soon Roger and Mimi joined them.

The rest of them sat there in silence for a moment, the dead weight of knowing that Joanne was leaving soon hanging over them.

"Oh, the wonders of being single," Abeth said with a little sigh, just to break the silence, resting her chin in her hand.

"It's not all bad," Maureen said quietly, but only Collins heard her over the music.

"You think Mark is going to ever get serious with her?" Joanne asked, motioning her head to him and Amy.

Abeth, with her back to the dance floor, looked over her shoulder to see them. Amy wore a fitted blue dress that reached just under her knees, with silver heels, and glossy blond hair pulled back from her face neatly. Mark was in the one dress shirt he seemed to own, black dress pants and a tie.

"They look good together," Abeth said, absently, "don't they?"

"Nawh," Collins said, leaning back in his chair, "he'll never man up to it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, turning to him.

"Why do you think Mark's going out with her? She's easy to keep distance from, you know?"

"Now that's not fair," Joanne said softly. "We have no idea how he feels about her."

"Trust me," Collins went on, "you two may have hit it off when you met, but I've known the kid a long time."

"What happened when you met him, Joanne?" Abeth asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the subject they seemed stuck on.

_He'll never man up to it._

"How'd you meet?"

Joanne smiled. "Didn't we tell you?"

Abeth shook her head.

"Well… it was the day of the protest and the engineer was three hours late…"

* * *

"I should tell you-"

"-I should tell you."

They held onto each other tightly, swaying gently to the music they ignored, whispering into each other's ears.

"Where there's moonlight…"

"…there's only us, there's only this."

"Depends on true devotion."

"So dark we forget who we are..."

"I'm longing so to hold you."

"I'd die without you."

"Your eyes..."

"You made the lock on my heart explode."

"Measure in love-"

"-I jumped over the moon."

"Well, here we go."

"Here goes."

"I have always loved you…"

"I should tell you, I love you."

"…you can see it in my eyes."

* * *

Mark and Amy came and sat down a while later.

"You're missing the conga line!" Maureen cried.

"I know!" Amy cried, pretending to be upset. "That's what _I _said!"

"Well, there's no way I'm missing it!" she cried. She walked over to Amy, dragged her by the hand and led her to the floor.

"You're really going to turn down conga-ing?" Abeth asked Mark with a little smile.

"I think I'll make it. Collins," he said, turning to his friend, "you haven't been up yet."

"I'm not drunk enough," he explained. "This cheap-ass champagne isn't doing too much for me. Reminds me of that stuff that one New Years, remember?"

Mark smiled fondly. "Yeah, I remember."

Collins downed the last of his glass. "Well," he said, shaking off the memory, "I think I'm ready."

"To dance?" Joanne asked.

Collins shook his head. "To toast!"

Collins pushed himself out of this seat and made his way across the dance floor to wear a temporary stage had been set up, with a few of Roger's high school buddies playing sappy love songs and the chicken dance on electric guitars. It was kinda cool, Collins thought.

He told the band to stop, much to the drunken conga line's disappointment and took the microphone from the stand. "Attention, guys. Hey, everyone, up here."

Guests quickly found their seats again and watched Collins.

"Hey, it's me. Tom Collins. I've, uh, I've been a friend of Roger's for a while now. A really long while, actually, and I just wanted to, you know, say my piece." He sighed, collecting his thoughts. "I was there when you and me and Benny moved in together. I was there when we met Mark, and Maureen. …I was there when April died. I was there when you got sick. And when you got clean. We _all _were there when you got clean, man."

From the stage, Collins could see Roger nodding along, tears gathering in his eyes reflected from the lights behind him. Mimi held firmly onto his hand.

"And you were there, too, man. You were there when… when she got sick. When she died... You were there when Angel died. And so were you, Mimi. And Mark, and Joanne, and Maureen… we were…" he stopped, forcing himself not to cry. _And we're still here and she's not._

"I'm getting off topic," he said, collecting himself. "What I'm trying to say is, Rog, Mimi, you guys are my family. You're there for me, and I'm sayin' right now that I'm there for you two. 'Cause… someone once said that friendship was thicker then blood. That it depended on true devotion and love… you've always had that in me, and now you have it in each other. Like, forever, man."

Mark raised his glass. _"Hear, hear!"_

"Hear, hear!" they all echoed.

* * *

Amy set her glass down. "I'll be back," she smiled, "bathroom break."

"Too much info there, Blondie," Maureen laughed.

As Amy walked away, the song changed. Mark turned to Abeth.

"You like this song, don't you?"

Abeth nodded.

"Isn't it, like, your favourite?"

Abeth laughed. "Yeah, I like it."

"You wanna dance?"

"With you? Oh, I don't need a pity dance," she laughed. "I've danced with Collins _and _Joanne _and _Roger. I'm good."

"Well," he smiled, "I've only danced with Amy. So let's go."

She looked up at him and a million images flashed through her mind. His eyes asked her if she remembered. _Don't you remember walking around New York with me? Filming you in the black coat? Jumping on my back? Sleeping in my living room? Don't you remember hugging me? Kissing me? Lying on the couch?_

_Oh_, how she remembered.

And so they danced.

* * *

"How long before those two finally get together?" Mimi asked, looking at Mark and Abeth.

"If he wanted her, wouldn't he have left Amy by now?" Joanne asked.

"Knowing Mark?" Roger piped up, "No."

"She wants him so bad," Maureen said, watching them.

"Thought you said she didn't... and you were an _expert_ in women," Collins teased.

She smiled. "Nobody's perfect! And I was way off. I mean, _look_ at them! Amy's gotta be blind if..."

"What about me?" Amy asked, sitting back down.

"Oh, nothing," Maureen said quickly.

Amy followed everyone's gaze over to the dance floor, just in time to see Abeth lay her head on Mark's chest.

"Oh," Amy said, softly.

* * *

**AN: **Pretty much what Mark and Abeth are "thinking", or wanting to say to each other, while they're dancing and what Amy's thinking while she's watching them. I'll put the important bits in bold :)

**Dark Blue:**

_Mark_: I have...

_Abeth_: **I have you**...

_Mark_: **breathing down my neck,** breathing down my neck.

_Abeth_: I don't, don't know what you could...

_Mark_: **possibly expect under this condition**, so...

_Abeth_:** I'll wait, I'll wait** for the ambulance to come, ambulance to come...

_Mark_: Pick us up off the floor. **What did you possibly expect under this condition?** So...

_Mark and Abeth_: Slow down.. this night's a perfect shade of dark blue, dark blue.** Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?** When I'm here with you, I said the world could be burning down. Dark blue, dark blue. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? Well, I'm here with you... I said the world could be burning 'til there's nothing but dark blue..  
Just dark blue.

_Amy_: This flood, this flood, is slowly rising up **swallowing the ground beneath my feet.** **Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition**? So, I'll swim, I'll swim, as the water rises up, the sun is sinking down. And now all I can see are the planets in a row suggesting it's best that I...

_Mark and Abeth_:... slow down. This night's a perfect shade of dark blue, dark blue. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? When I'm here with you, I said the world could be burning, burning down. Dark blue, dark blue. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? Well, I'm here with you, I said the world could be burning... dark blue.

_Abeth_: We were boxing

_Mark_: We were boxing the stars

_Abeth_:We were boxing.

_Mark_: We were boxing.

_Abeth_ :You were swinging for Mars and then the water reached the West Coast...

_Mark_: And took the power lines, the power lines.

_Abeth_: **And it was me and you... this could last forever**

_Mark_: And the whole town under water.

_Amy_: There was nothing we could do. It was dark blue

_Mark and Abeth_: Dark blue, dark blue. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? Well, I'm here with you,  
I said the world could be burning, burning down. Dark blue. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? Well, I'm here with you, I said the room could be burning. Now there's nothing but dark blue.

_Abeth_: If you've ever been alone in the dark blue.

_Mark_: **If you've ever been alone you'll know.**

_Abeth_: **You'll know**.


	16. Really Alone

**Really Alone:**

"Ricky…"

Ricky sat down in the booth inside the little restaurant they were in. Abeth already sat across form him.

"Why is this so important that I have to get here _right away_?" he snapped. "I was sleeping." Abeth wrinkled her nose as he settled into his seat. He smelt like beer.

"We need to talk," she mumbled, picking absently at her nail. She hadn't been looking forward to today.

"Oh," he said rolling his eyes, "here it comes."

"Ricky, stop it. Don't act like things have been going fine. You didn't even come to the wedding…"

"You didn't _want_ me at the wedding!" he cried. Abeth was silently thankful that the restaurant was nearly empty.

She sighed. "Look, can we just cut this part out?"

"What, you expect me to just shake your hand and walk away? Like I didn't waste my fucking time on you?"

"No, I just…" She looked up at him. "If _you _don't want to be with me, and _I _don't want you to be with me then… then what are we _doing_? Just sitting here with our thumbs up our asses?"

Ricky shook his head, angrily. "It's _you_, you know. This is _your _fault."

Abeth put her head down. "I know."

Each of them waited for the silence to pass, but it didn't. It weighed on each of them, close and suffocating, like a wet blanket wrapped around their heads. And Abeth fought for breath.

"It's him, isn't it?" Ricky finally said. "That's why you gave up. It's him."

She didn't reply. Right now she didn't have it in her. She was just so tired.

"I just got caught in the crossfire. I was your _human shield_ against him, wasn't I?"

He was right. Ricky was her way of separating herself from the situation she'd found herself in when she got back to New York. She was just too much of a coward to actually deal with it.

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Rick, I'm sorry, I just…"

"I don't believe this!"

"_Calm down_. Did you honestly think we were going to last?"

"Tell me," he nearly snarled, "was it him?"

"What does it matter?" She fought to make sure her voice didn't shake. She was not going to let herself cry, not right now.

"I want to know."

"This only involves me and you. Anyone else-"

"Tell me, damn it! Stop making excuses and fucking-"

"_Yes_!" She cried, a tear finally managing to escape down her face. She inhaled shakily.

"It was him," he said, softly, almost to himself.

"It was _always_ him."

Ricky couldn't understand why he was so upset. He hadn't seen her in nearly two weeks and hadn't always been faithful. And it's not like this was a shock. Maybe he was still drunk. Or maybe he just wasn't used to coming in second. Or maybe he had actually felt something for Abeth and now realized that she didn't even have the intention of trying to feel the same way.

But none of that really mattered now.

Slamming his fist into the table, he stood up and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Abeth to finally succumb to the sobs that had been building up in her.

Because now she really was alone.


	17. The Ceremony

**The Ceremony:**

Mark was nervous. _Very _nervous. He couldn't remember the last time he'd won anything, much less received in front of hundreds of people.

Well… fifty six people.

But it felt like hundreds.

The Hume-Jarrah independent film society wasn't exactly well known, but it had a knack for finding real talent in local artists. Mark was glad for this. He knew a lot of really talented people who make their start through them. Plus, it didn't hurt that he'd won.

There'd been a few winners before him. Some lengthy speeches about hope and not giving up; one part inspiring, two parts snooze-fest.

He looked around the table, reserved special for them. Little cardboard signs to prove it, too. His mother and father were up in Aspen and Cindy and the kids were down in Tampa for the month. He was sad they couldn't come, but, in a way, relieved. He'd film it for them.

His friends absolutely beamed at him. It felt nice to be proud of.

He sat beside Amy, naturally, who looked stunning. With her slim, black skirt, silver blouse and gold hair, she looked like she should be the one going up on stage. Collins sat to his left, Joanne beside him. Across from Joanne sat Abeth, to her right Roger, then Mimi, then Maureen.

Abeth had been down the past few days and he figured it was because she'd broken up with Ricky. _He was a loser anyways_, he told himself, though he knew he'd only spoken to him a handful of times. S_he deserves better._

"I think you're next," Roger said as a man took the stage and started talking about how he began making films.

Mark nodded, feeling the butterflies returning to his stomach. _This can't be happening._

"Oh, baby," Amy smiled, "you look as white as a ghost. Relax."

Mimi nodded. "You're going to be just fine. Just keep it short and sweet."

Mark nodded again, and looked over at Abeth. She stared down blankly at her plate, pushing what was left of her food around. He sighed to himself. ..._It sucks to see her down. _

"Mark, you all right?"

He turned back to Amy and adjusted his tie. "Yeah. Just nervous."

But everything felt very wrong.

He ignored it. If he could ignore it long enough, it'd go away. That nagging feeling, the guilt… it was just nerves.

_Guilt?_ …_Yeah._

Roger caught his eye. His face told Mark that he knew something was wrong. Mark quickly looked away. He didn't need Roger trying to figure him out right now. He didn't want advice or help or a lecture. He just wanted this night to be over with before he threw up.

Maureen waved her hand to get their attention. "They're doing it!"

They all turned to the little stage and paid attention. "Our last award," said a man in black, "is for best documentary…"

Mark tuned him out and inhaled deeply. They put on a clip from his movie and the room went dark. He had about five minutes to collect himself before they called him up.

He was going to pass out.

He tried to focus on the movie. _Oh, this part. The quick cuts, the slow narration. One of the better parts. I'm glad they chose it. Look, there's Mimi. ...Did I come up with this while I was high? Yeah... I think so. _He flicked a nervous glance at Abeth, but she stared blankly up to the screen. He wondered if she'd ever tell anyone.

_What an amazing girl, _he thought, still watching her. _She fucking saved me, didn't she?_

"...Mark Cohen!"

He only came out of his thoughts when he heard his name. His heart skipped a beat. As he pushed his chair back, Amy gave him a little pat on the should and her signature toothpaste-commerial smile. "Good luck," she mouthed. He just nodded. _Don't puke... No projectile vommitting at the fancy people... oh no, that would be bad..._

He stepped up on the stage, accepted the little plaque, and looked over at his friends. "Thank you..." he started, a little shakily. "Thank you so much. This, uh... this really means a lot. My thanks to the Hume-Jarrah company for..."

_Shit, what do I say next?_

His heart raced. His eyes found his friends again. They were smiling. Even poor Abeth was smiling at him.

"...for giving us all this opportunity. For showing us that our work is being recognized and making an impact."

A few claps. But he was happy. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I really need to thank my friends. I mean, they're why I'm here. They're why I film. I've known you all for... well, it feels like forever. And, even though some of us aren't here... No," he corrected himself. "They _are_ here."

Collins smiled up at him, his eyes a little watery.

Mark breathed in again. And he - _wait_. A trick of the light? It had to be.

Angel wasn't really there. ...But there she was, plain as day, standing behind Collins. He blinked and she was gone.

"Uh..."

_Just finish. Short and sweet._

"Yeah... You guys are amazing."

"We love you, Mark!" boomed Roger.

A few snickers.

"Thanks, Rog. And my girlfriend. You're great. I love you, Abeth."


	18. She Left

**She Left:**

_Oh fuck. Oooh, I fucked up bad._

"Amy."

Silence in the room, blank stares all looking up at him, waiting. Waiting for him to swallow back his words and spit them back up the right way. Waiting for his to do something, _anything_ that might fix this, but he couldn't think of anyway to right it. He couldn't think at all.

And the lights were just so _bright_.

"I love you, Amy," Mark said, stupidly. "I love my friend Abeth and I…" He swallowed, hard. "Well, not like _love_ love. Just normal, friend love…"

_Here comes that projectile vomiting. Oh fuck._

Roger looked up at Mark, trying desperately to send him some sort of telepathic message to get off the stage. He looked over at Amy to assess the damage. Had she been a cartoon, smoke would have been steaming from her ears.

Mimi looked up at him. "Oh my God," she mouthed, the corner of her lips turning up into a smile. She never could resist a good fuck up. And a dramatic one at that. But Roger wasn't having quite as much fun.

He looked back up at Mark, still stuttering on the stage.

This was a nightmare.

Mark finished up and quickly made his way down the steps, heading back for the table, and head down the whole time.

Roger flashed another look at Amy. Her eyes burned holes into the table.

But then a thought struck him and he looked over at Abeth. Wiping her eyes, she quickly gathered her things and left, without saying anything.

"Abby," Collins called after her. "Come on, girl."

Joanne sighed and stood, following her out of the hall.

"Well, isn't this nice and dramatic?" Maureen said, taking a sip of her drink.

Mark sat down next to Amy, his head still down. "I, uh…"

"Just shut up," she hissed.

* * *

"Abby! Abby, wait!" Joanne called as Abeth headed for the front door.

"No," Abeth muttered. "No. I have to go home."

Joanne caught up with her. "Your hotel won't-"

"No, _home_. Toronto."

Joanne touched her shoulder. Abeth quickly wiped her eyes again, black makeup running a bit. "Abby, you can't just run away from this."

"No, actually," she said coldly, turning for the door again, "I think I can."

Joanne grabbed her wrist. "You need to talk about what just happened!"

"Nothing _happened_."

"Mark just announced her loved you!" Joanne cried, nearly throwing her arms up in exasperation. She gently grabbed hold of Abeth's wrist.

"It was a mistake."

"Was it?"

Abeth pulled her wrist away, sharply. "_Yes_, it _was_. Or else…" A fresh set of tears she tried desperately to hold back. "Or else he wouldn't have _said_ it was."

Joanne sighed. "He was… he was just backtracking, he-"

"Jo," Abeth said, a tone of finality in her voice, "I can't stay here if he needs to backtrack. I can't stay here if…"

"If…?" Joanne prompted.

"If he doesn't love me back."

Joanne sighed, sadly. "Abeth…"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's always been about him. He doesn't want me, he does… I've been getting mixed signals since day one."

"But-"

"But now I'm done," Abeth went on, more to herself then Joanne. "Now I'm making the decisions. And I'm _not_ going to stay in New York for someone who can't make up his mind!"

"I know…"

"No. I've decided. I'm going back to Toronto. I've been thinking about it for a while and now it's time."

Joanne narrowed her eyes, thinking. Finally, she asked, "Where is all this coming from? You seemed so content…"

Again, Abeth wiped her eyes. "I guess… I guess when he said my name; it was the straw that broke my back. It's when I realized just how long I've waited for him to say that… and then… _he took it back_."

* * *

Mark pushed the doors of the hall open, running out into the foyer, moving slow motion like some movie he'd made in high school. His eyes darted frantically around the room.

He looked at Joanne, helplessly. "Where is she?"

Joanne gave a weak shrug, her eyebrows turned up sadly. "She left."

Mark made for the doors leading outside, but Joanne caught him by the shoulder.

"Joanne, I've gotta…"

"She _left_, Mark."

And his heart sank.


	19. What We Wanted

**What We Wanted:**

A knock at the door.

Joanne opened it and sighed, seeing Maureen standing in the hallway of her apartment.

"Can I come in?"

"Why?"

Maureen made her way inside despite Joanne's lack of an invatation. "Looks pretty empty in here," she said, scanning the room.

"Yeah," Joanne said, sighing again. "The movers left a few hours ago."

Maureen walked around, looking over the blank walls. "We sure had some times in this place, didn't we?"

"What are you doing here?"

Maureen turned to face her, pretending to be surprised by the question. "I'm saying goodbye."

"We'll say goodbye tonight. At the party," she said, flatly.

"Yeah, but everyone will be there. It doesn't count."

"And what about it didn't count?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

Maureen took a step towards her. "Haven't I earned a special goodbye?"

"I don't have time for this." Joanne said, irratated. She began picking the last few things up off of the table and shoving them in her purse.

"Nothing new," Maureen muttered. "...never had time for me."

"And that's it!" Joanne cried, turning around. "That's it right there!"

"What?" Maureen cried, innocently. "Why are you mad?"

"It's always gotta come down to you, doesn't it?"

"What?"

Joanne shook her head, angrily. "This is why there is no "special goodbye". You just don't understand..."

"Look, I understand, Joanne. I'm not stupid."

"I never said that-"

Maureen raised her voice. "I didn't come here so we could-"

"Why then?" Joanne tried to compose herself. "Why are you here?"

Maureen ran her hand over her face. "I'll just go."

"No," Joanne insisted, taking a hold of Maureen's arm as she turned to leave. "I want to know."

Maureen's eyelides fluttered a little. A habit she could shake; it happened whenever she was upset. "I just wanted to say goodbye," she said, quietly.

Joanne's hand fell from Maueren's arm, but her eyes never left her's. "You're lying," she hissed.

"Well... well, you can't just _leave_ me."

"What are you talking about?"

Maureen lowered her head. "I just didn't think it'd end up like this."

"End up like what?"

"What? You want me to spell it out for you?"

A beep from the street.

Joanne sighed. "My dad's here..."

Maureen nodded. "Bye, then." She started for the door, heels clicking on the empty wooden floor.

"Maureen..." Guilt was beginning to get the best of Joanne, and no matter how upset she thought she was with Maureen, she couldn't bring herself to leave things this way. "Look..."

"No," Maureen inturputed. "I'm sorry. I should never have come. I just wanted..."

Joanne nodded, slowly. "I wanted it, too."


	20. Under Control

**Under Control:**

"_I'm going_!"

"Amy, you don't have to _yell_. I'm right here."

Amy sighed, exasperatedly as she put in her earrings. "Look, Mark, I'm sorry you and your _other_ girlfriend are having issues, but that doesn't mean you're going to keep me away from the rest of your friends. I want to say goodbye to Joanne, too."

Mark turned away from her and sat down on the couch, running a hand over his face. "Abeth is leaving, too," he said as calmly as he could manage, "and I don't want…"

"…Me in the way? Is that it?" she spat.

"No! I don't want things to be awkward, that's all."

"It's not _my_ fault they're awkward," Amy hissed.

"I _said_ I'm sorry."

"Well," she went on, touching up her lips, "'sorry' can only get you so far, Mark. Anyways," she said, putting her lipstick into her bag, "I'm coming with you. And if we don't leave now, we'll be late."

Mark made no attempt to move from his spot on the sofa.

Amy sighed inwardly. She was going to go; she was going to win this fight. She and Mark hardly fought; they never had a reason to. She liked to think it was because they got along so well, but she knew it was because things didn't matter to them, and not in a good way. They didn't care, things weren't important. But this _was_ important. She wasn't going to let Mark pick some girl over her. He had humiliated her at his award ceremony, and she was determined to make him feel just as terrible.

"You know," she said, coldly, making her way over to him, "sometimes you can be _real_ annoying."

Mark couldn't help but smile. "Me?"

"Stop screwing around! Let's _go_."

Mark inhaled to steady himself. "I don't want you to come," he said slowly.

"Yeah, we've been _through_ this," Amy said, putting her hands firmly on her hips. "And it's solved. You're going to _man up_ and go and I'm coming with you. It's not my fault you messed up. And… and I really don't care whether or not _she_ has a good time tonight."

"_She_ is my friend," he cried. "And _she's_ leaving… again."

Amy turned around, heading towards the giant, sliding door of the loft. "Fine, whatever. I'll go with or without you."

Mark stood up. "Amy!"

"What?" she said, looking back over her shoulder. She let a little smile creep over her lips, almost happy he was so upset. _Of course he wouldn't let me leave._ _He might think this is his choice… but I know what I'm doing, _she assured herself. _I've got this under control._

"I don't want you to come."

"Abeth can just-"

"No," he interrupted. "_I_ don't want to come."

Her smile disappeared. "But…"

Mark sighed. "What are we doing, Amy?"

"…fighting?" she tried, stupidly.

"Yeah… but I mean…"

"Mark," she said cooly, taking a step toward him, "relax, you're just…"

"Amy, we need to break up."

"Excuse me?"

Mark stood up and sighed. "Look," he began, gently, "we both knew that this wasn't ever going to go anywhere…"

"Don't tell me what I know," she hissed. _I have this under control…_

"But look at where we are… the exact same place we've always been."

"What then? What do you want?" she hissed, "You want to get _married_?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly. "No. I want to break up."

"Well… that's not happening."

Mark was taken back by how easy it seemed for her to be so blunt. "Why not?"

"Because I have this under control!" she cried, suddenly. "I win fights. And people don't break up with _me_," she said, pointing melodramatically at herself.

"Please," Mark said, rubbing his brow. "Let's not…"

"Not what? You started this."

"You're right, I did. I shouldn't have. And you shouldn't have."

"Don't pin this on me."

"Amy… you don't want me and I don't want you."

"Then why are we together?" she demanded.

Mark shrugged, hopelessly. "It's easy. It's easier then knowing we're alone."

Amy smiled again, picking up her bag. "Fuck you, Mark Cohen," she said as she stormed out of the loft.

Mark lowered himeself onto the couch again. _Great... _he thought bitterly, _now I'm in the perfect mood for a party. Joanne, Abeth, Amy... just how many women are going to leave me tonight?_


	21. Joanne's Party

**Joanne's Party:**

Abeth went to Joanne's goodbye dinner at the Life Café, but didn't stay long. The entire time she felt her chest constricting, her throat closing and she wasn't even sure why she was so nervous. She kept telling herself that it was Mark who messed up that night, not her.

Amy wasn't there. She looked around just to be sure.

But Mark wasn't there, either.

_Good. It's much better this way._

"I can't stay," she said, sliding into a seat next to Joanne. "I just wanted to say bye."

"What do you mean you can't stay?" Mimi cried.

"I'm going home tonight, remember?"

"But you gotta stay! It'll be a double goodbye party!" Collins smiled, taking a swig of what one could only guess was vodka.

Abeth smiled. "The next round's on me, babe."

Collins held his glass up to her.

Roger leaned over the table. "You can't leave now," he insisted over the noise.

Abeth shrugged. "My flight's in an hour."

Joanne pulled her into a hug. "You'd better come back," she smiled, placing a playful kiss in her forehead.

"Don't I always?"

After hugging everyone once more, she decided it was time to leave. Time to tear herself away from these people… again.

"Wait," Roger said. "Don't you want to say goodbye to Mark?"

Abeth focused on making sure she didn't change her facial expression. She didn't want them to think she was leaving because of Mark or Amy or any part of the situation. She was an adult now. Adults didn't do things like that.

_They don't, right?_

But they all saw it. The way the nearly happy light behind her eyes dulled when Roger mentioned him. The subtle way she lowered her eyes, then quickly brought them back up. How pale she got.

"But… I'm late."

"There are other flights," Maureen said.

"No," she said, slipping her bag over her shoulder, "I really do have to go." After blowing them a kiss, she turned to leave. Pushing open the glass door, she pulled her coat closer around herself and tried to ignore the cold as she watched her feet, navigating around the ice on the sidewalk.

But when she looked up, he was there.


	22. Goodbye, Love

**Goodbye, Love:**

"Why-why…What are you doing here?"

Mark was just as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. He was terrified. "I came for Joanne," he said stupidly.

"I was just leaving…" she mumbled, walking past him.

He caught her arm. "Wait. I think we should… maybe you should come by the loft tomorrow?"

All at once she felt sorry for him. He looked so honest. He really did want to fix everything, he really wanted to try. And he didn't know.

"No, I mean _leaving_."

"What? _Tonight_?"

Abeth nodded.

"But…" he looked around him, searching desperately for anything that might give him a clue as to what to say next.

Fat snowflakes drifted lazily from the black sky and standing there under the street light in her black coat, auburn hair pulled back into a loose braid Mark was more in love with Abeth then he'd ever been.

"I'm sorry I…"

Abeth shook her head. "Forget it. You messed up, I understand."

"No. That's not why I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry because-"

Abeth knew what was coming next and it was the last thing she wanted to hear. All she wanted to do was leave.

_Run away. I'm good at that._

"Mark," she interrupted. "I have a plane to catch, I have to…"

"Abby, you can't leave now. Now… now I'm ready. I love you, Abeth."

_Oh, do you mean that this time?_ She though, bitterly.

"Well, I'm glad _you're_ ready, but I'm not. So, if you'll excuse me."

Mark stepped in front of her. She couldn't meet his eyes, so she stared at his scarf. That was hard, too.

_Stupid scarf._

"You've done so much for me… and I just…"

"You you're with Amy. I understand," she said, angrily.

"But I'm _not_ anymore. I want… to be… with you," he said slowly, forcing the words past his lips as if it were painful.

Really, Abeth realized, it must have been. She couldn't remember a time when Mark was really able to relay what he felt to people. This was a big deal.

"I always wanted to be with you," he went on, hands shoved in his coat pockets, away from the cold.

"Then why were you with her?" Abeth demanded. Although she really didn't understand why, she was angry with Mark. Why wait until now? Now, when she was ready to leave? Why was he making things so difficult for her?

Mark shrugged, sadly. "I… I was alone. Amy was like a drug… she just… dulled the pain."

Abeth rolled her eyes. "You're words are nice, Mark, but love's not a three-way street. Why did you wait _this_ long? It's so… unfair of you to put this on me now!" she cried.

Mark hung his head. "I know. I'm sorry."

Angry tears gathered in her eyes. "_Why_? _Why_ did you wait?"

"I was scared," he said, so quietly Abeth could hardly hear him.

She waited for him to go on.

"I was scared that… this would happen. I'd be forced to…" Summoning all of his courage, he looked back up at her, eyes bright behind his glasses. "I'd be forced to feel something real. And that _terrifies_ me, Abeth."

"Why?" she asked, softly, forgetting her anger for a moment.

"When things get real, people get hurt. I don't want to get attached to anyone important. I'm scared… I'm scared I'll loose them," he finally said. "I lost April, I lost Angel." Tears gathered in his eyes. "I'm loosing Mimi, Roger, Collins…I was terrified I'd loose you."

"You thought I'd get _sick_?"

"I knew something as great as you couldn't last. For whatever reason. I was… hiding. I was hiding behind Amy."

Abeth narrowed her brown eyes, sadly. "You were hiding and I walked right by you," she said, as gently as she could manage.

"I'm not hiding anymore."

Abeth shook her head, trying again to get by him. "I'm not gunna be that girl."

Again, Mark stopped her. "What girl?"

She looked back up at him. "That girl who waits forever. That girl who…"

…_was stupid enough to wait forever._

"Abby…" He touched her arm tentatively.

She ripped herself away from him. "What do you _want_ from me, Mark?" she cried. "I try and I try…" She shook her head. "I'm done," she said quietly. "I'm tried and I'm done. And I just want to go home."

"I'm sorry…"

"Stop apologizing."

"I…"

"Just let me by."

"I want…" He sighed, and then a little smile crept over his lips, his eyes staring off down the street. "I want to just wake up and you to be next to me. And every morning I'd be surprised to see you there." He looked back at her. "Surprised that I ever got lucky enough to have you. Surprised that you stayed. I want to wake up and think I'm still dreaming."

Abeth stood there awhile, trying to ignore how cold she was and forcing down the lump in her throat. "It's a really nice thought, Mark," she said, finally. "But it's just a thought."

Mark nodded slowly, as if accepting his defeat. "I just needed you to know. I do love you."

"I loved you, too," she said. She pushed passed him, making sure he didn't see her wipe a tear off her cheek.

And Mark watched her leave.


	23. The Last Time

**The Last Time:**

They were all having fun for the most part.

Things were a little tense between Maureen and Joanne, but things were going better then Roger had expected. _Maureen must be trying to keep things civil_, he figured, _after all, it _is_ Joanne's goodbye party…_

Roger wrapped his arms around Mimi's waist and kissed her forehead. Being married didn't suck like they said it did.

Collins was already drunk. He knew Maureen would follow shortly. _That'll be fun_, he thought, smiling to himself.

"Where do you think Mark is?" he asked Mimi, looking around.

Mimi looked, too. "I don't see Amy, either."

"Ten bucks says they broke up," Roger smiled.

Mimi hit his chest playfully.

"I know, I know…" Roger left. "That was mean."

"You know we don't have ten bucks," she said, pretending to be upset. They both laughed.

"Maybe he was waiting for Abeth to leave," Roger guessed.

Mimi shrugged. "Did he know she was coming?"

"He must have."

A crash.

They both looked over to the other side of the café, where Collins stood up on the bar. "To Joanne!" he cried. They all raised their glasses. The waiters carefully tried to coax him down. "Don't make me start singin'," he warned.

"I'm gunna miss her," Mimi sighed, after taking a sip of her cheap red wine.

Roger nodded. "She'll be back soon, though."

Mark walked in, snow covering his shoulders and melting in his hair. Everyone greeted him.

"Where were you, man?" Collins asked.

Mark sighed. "Doesn't matter." He forced a smiled at Joanne. "Tonight we're talking about Jo."

Joanne hugged him.

"You'd better not let her go," she whispered to him.

Mark pulled back from her, pretending to be confused.

She only looked at him sternly. "I know what I'm talking about, Mark."

He nodded. "...Pretty sure I just ruined everything."

Roger sighed. "Mark and Joanne are telling secrets again!"

Collins came over. "_I_ got a secret!" He swung his arm around Mark. "Wanna hear it?"

"Sure."

"I love this place. I love you guys. And I love this drink!"

"Oh no," Mimi laughed.

"What?" Joanne asked, turning to see where Mimi was looking.

Maureen was mooning at the manager. "Moo!" she cried.

"It's not a party until someone shows some ass!" Collins laughed.

"Come on," Mimi smiled, taking Joanne's hand, "you're going out with a bang."

Together, they jumped up onto the tables, just like they used to, knowing it could very well it could be the last time they did.

Roger pulled out his pager.

"AZT break?" Mimi guessed.

He shook his head, smiling. "I gotta leave the door unlocked tonight."


	24. Surprising You

**Surprising You:**

Abeth wasn't exactly sure when she'd made up her mind. Maybe she'd always known what she was going to do after all. Though, for a while there, she thought she really might leave.

She's paged Roger earlier and told him to leave the door open.

She sat in the Life Café, watching the snow fall, in the same booth she sat in when she first came back to New York. She replayed all that had happened since then, sipping her tea.

_It was then_, she decided, stealing quietly up the stairs. _I made up my mind then._

It was hard calling Penny and telling her what she wanted to do. But Penny understood. Besides, Penny had pointed out, it was almost Christmas. They'd visit then.

Finally, she came to the loft door and pushed it open as softly as she could. Setting down her bag and pulling off her coat, she crept into this room.

Mark laid on his back under two blankets, his glasses beside his alarm clock on the nightstand, clothes, books, and papers scattered on the floor. A suitcase laid open and empty in the corner of the room.

Still trying to be as quiet as possible, she laid down next to him.

_I'm not that girl who waits forever… I'm that girl who runs away and then comes back. _

Abeth wasn't sure if that was really any better, but it didn't matter. She was happy. It didn't matter what kind of girl she was. She's figure it out later.

Mark turned over on his side and opened an eye. He seemed too tired to be surprised. "What are you doing here?" he asked, sleepily.

"Did I wake you?"

Mark closed his eyes. "I was going to come get you."

"What?"

He pointed to the suitcase. "I was coming for you."

Abeth curled up beside him.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked again, opening his eyes.

She shrugged. "Surprising you."

**The End.**

* * *

**AN: **All right... so this story turned out nothing like I expected so any constructive critisisim (sp...?) would be really helpful :) Anyways, how you enjoyed!


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